Problems With Dean: Growing Up
by SciFiNutTX
Summary: AU – Problems With Dean 'verse. Can be read as a stand-alone. John Winchester left his sons to be raised by his business partner and his wife, Mike and Kate, who just can't seem to understand Dean. Here is the explanation of how they grew up, per request
1. Chapter 1

AU – The Problems With Dean 'verse. Can be read as a stand-alone. John Winchester left his sons to be raised by his business partner and his wife, Mike and Kate, who just can't seem to understand Dean. Here is the explanation of how they grew up, per request. (After the last couple of requests, the idea for this just started burning a hole in my brain. And, well, I don't really like walking around with holes, so...)

**Problems With Dean: Growing Up**

**Chapter 1**

Dean is 6 and Sammy is 2 years old

Hoarse sobbing came from behind Dean's bedroom door. It tore at Kate's heart, but this had to be done. Dean's therapist told them that he was unnaturally attached to his younger brother and it was unhealthy. Dean had to learn to sleep in his own bed, in his own room. A clean break had been advised as the best course of action. There would undoubtedly be a couple of bad nights, but then Dean would adapt. Children were resilient.

Kate laid a hand on his door as the sobbing continued. She wanted to stay there, to wait until Dean fell asleep so she could put him to bed, but Mike tugged at her arm.

"You know he can keep that up for hours," Mike whispered. "He's fine. We locked him in, he's not going anywhere and nothing can hurt him. Come to bed."

She nodded, though she didn't think she would be able to sleep tonight. Kate let Mike lead her downstairs. He tried to get amorous, but she really wasn't in the mood.

"Just thought you needed a distraction," he mumbled into her hair.

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate it, but there was no way Kate could even consider that with Dean sobbing his eyes out upstairs. After Mike fell asleep a thunderstorm rolled in. How could she possibly let Dean sleep alone now? Kate considered waking Mike, but she knew what he would say: if they backed down now, Dean would continue to expect them to back down. It could only turn out worse. She rubbed her swollen belly. They would have another little one to worry about soon, it was high time Dean was set straight.

Each roll of thunder sent waves of guilt through her. She wondered if she could wait for the morning alarm to go off. When it finally rang with a shrillness admonishing Kate for her bad parenting, she had to pry her eyes open. It was morning though the sun had not bothered getting up yet. Finally! She shoved Mike's shoulder before hurrying out of bed.

Kate mounted the stairs anxiously, making a beeline for Dean's room. She slid the bolt back and slowly opened the door, in case Dean fell asleep beside it. Kate frowned at the fact she could not find Dean instantly. He was not on the floor by the door. She flipped on the overhead light. His bed had not been slept in and he was not hiding behind the door or in the empty closet. Her first clue was the wet floor.

Surprised, Kate followed the pools of water to their source. Her heart seized even as the baby gave her a good morning kick.

"Kate? How is he?" Mike's voice blared through the empty room.

She pointed a shaking hand at the window, where a breeze blew in through broken glass.

"What the hell?" Mike breathed over her shoulder. Their eyes met and they reached the same conclusion at the same time. Practically falling over each other, Kate fought her husband to get to the bedroom next door, Sammy's room. She threw the door open.

At first, in the dim light offered by the hallway, all Kate could see was Sammy's tousled hair and what she assumed was Dean's head next to Sammy's. She breathed a sigh of relief as she approached them. Kate pulled back the bedcovers to wake the boys and screamed. She staggered back, pointing to the boys. They were curled up together, their legs covered in drying blood.

"Honey?" Mike lowered her to the floor. "Kate? Can you hear me? I have to call an ambulance. Just stay here, don't move. I'll be right back." She barely heard his heavy running steps leave the room.

Sammy stirred in bed. Large brown eyes opened slowly. "Mommy?" he asked slowly. "Why Mommy crying?"

Sammy crawled out of bed. Kate stifled the scream rising in her throat, not wanting to frighten him. "Mommy?" Sammy patted her cheek softly. "Is Mommy okay?"

Kate tried to nod, but her head would not cooperate. If Sammy was fine, and he certainly looked it, then all that blood could only come from one place. Like a powerful magnet, Dean's still form drew her gaze. Oh, God…

"My get Dean," Sammy said when she could not speak, could not look at him. It was typical Sammy, things didn't seem right so he went straight to Dean. "Dean!"

Dean did not move. Confused, Sammy waddled closer to the bed. "Dean!" he shouted, pudgy fingers prying his brother's eyelids open. "Dean? Wake up time." Dean's body was so, so still.

"Mommy?" Sammy turned around. "Dean not wake up?" His forehead crinkled in the comical way two year olds had when they worried, but Kate could not see the humor in it. It was dreadful, disastrous, horrific.

"Easy, buddy," Mike intoned as he scooped Sammy into his arms. Mike forced Sammy to face her as he stood, waiting. "They'll be here soon," he promised. "Have you, uh, checked?" he asked, nodding at the bed.

Kate's breathing was erratic now and the only way her muscles worked was to hold her stiffly in place. If she wanted Kate couldn't even scream. All she could do was stare at Dean, lying in that bed, still. So very still. She swore to herself and to God if he was alive, Dean could sleep in the same room as his brother until he was fifty if he wanted. Then they could buy bunk beds. Kids loved bunk beds. Maybe for now they just needed a bigger bed. Yes, first thing she would buy a bigger bed for the boys to share. The moment she could move again.

Sirens told her that the ambulance was here. Still Kate could not move, only stare. Dean had been entrusted to her and over the past year, almost two years, the quiet boy had stolen a piece of her heart. She wanted to help him, show him how to be normal. She would, she thought, if he would just live. All he had to do was live through today and Kate would never, ever make this mistake again. She could take care of Dean, and she would. From now on Kate would put more effort into it, he just had to be there for her. That wasn't too much to ask, was it?

People came into the room, but Kate barely saw them. She heard words like 'blood loss' and 'thready pulse' but none of it really made sense. What did make sense was the oxygen mask they put over Dean's face and the stretcher they put him on. Kate pushed herself off the floor as they strapped Dean to the stretcher.

"Ma'am, maybe you should follow in the car with your husband," a paramedic suggested, standing in her way.

Kate glared at the man. "If you try to come between me and my son," she growled, "you will experience a new definition of pain."

His eyes widened and he stepped out of her way. Kate rushed after them, taking a seat inside the ambulance where she could hold Dean's hand the whole way to the hospital. He never opened his eyes, but his hand was warm and that was enough for now. When they took Dean into the ER she stayed right by his side, whether the doctors liked it or not. They hooked him up to an IV and a whole wall of monitors. Kate only left his side twice when her tiny bladder demanded attention. After a couple of hours, and a lot of work on Dean's leg she couldn't watch so she sat there with her eyes closed, he was placed into his own room.

Mike came in with a cranky Sammy. "Hey, honey," he said wearily. "So how is he?"

Sammy pawed at the bed, trying to get up with his big brother. Kate silently picked the younger boy up and helped situate him in bed. When she looked at her husband she found him watching her with wide eyes.

"He doesn't like to sleep alone," she said simply, taking her seat. Mike nodded slowly. "And he hasn't woken up yet, but the doctor said with that kind of blood loss at his age, it wasn't surprising. He'll probably be up and around by tomorrow." She took Dean's hand in hers again, entwining her fingers with his. It felt so small and fragile by comparison.

Sammy tickled Dean's cheek with his stubby fingers. "Dean?" he called softly. "Sammy want Dean wake up."

Kate thought she heard something from her oldest, but she wasn't sure.

"Sammy," she whispered, her heart racing with excitement, "do that again."

Sammy grinned, deep dimples in his chubby cheeks, and tickled Dean's cheek again. "Dean!" he called more insistently. "Sammy want to see Dean's eyes."

Dean's eyelashes, so dark in contrast to that sickly pale skin, fluttered. Kate tightened her grip on his hand. She nodded to Sammy to keep it up. Sammy called for his brother two more times before Dean's eyes finally opened. Kate felt like laughing and jumping for joy, but she stayed in her chair as she clutched Dean's hand.

The older boy stared hard at Sammy before looking around the room. He frowned at the bed and the monitors beeping. He positively scowled at the needle sticking in his arm.

"How are you feeling, Dean?" Mike asked softly.

Dean turned puzzled eyes to Mike, then he finally looked to Kate. "Mom?"

She beamed. In one word she understood that he wanted to know where he was and why. She understood Dean. It was rare, and Kate was not foolish enough to believe it would last, but she would take it while she could. "You lost a lot of blood, Dean," she explained slowly. "That isn't good for you. We couldn't wake you up, so we brought you to the hospital."

"This is what happens when you kick out windows, son," Mike admonished. "Do you have any idea how bad you scared us?"

Kate waved away Mike's anger. "Dean, why would you kick out the window?" she asked softly.

Dean ran a hand over Sammy's thick locks. "Thunderstorm."

"What about it?" Kate asked, shooting Mike the look that said 'shut up.'

"Sammy scared thunderstorm," Sammy said. He rested his head on his big brother's shoulder. "Dean make it all better."

Dean smiled at his little brother and relaxed into the bed. The arm under Sammy wound around Sammy's pudgy middle to pull his brother closer. Kate felt the tears welling in her eyes and hurried to brush them away with her free hand.

"I think," she said in a voice she desperately tried to hold steady, "that first thing tomorrow we should go buy a larger bed for the boys' room."

"What?" Mike asked.

"Well, I mean, what if we had a really bad storm?" Kate demanded. "Dean would probably go right through the wall. No, I'm afraid the boys will just have to share a room."

Mike started to protest, "But Doctor McHenrie said…"

Kate sniffed in disapproval. "That quack? He's fired. What an idiot. We can find someone better than him." She smiled at Dean. "You don't have to see that idiot again."

Dean nodded at her as his eyes dropped closed.

"Go ahead and sleep, Dean," she crooned softly, brushing her free hand against his forehead. "We'll be here when you wake up." And if one doctor or nurse even suggested that Sammy didn't need to share a bed with his big brother tonight, the idiot would have Kate to deal with. She looked forward to it.

* * *

Paul Hood knocked on the front door of his newest case, Dean Peavy. The adoptive parents had been putting off this in-home interview for weeks now. Paul had finally needed to threaten a court order before the parents agreed to set a date and time. He knocked again.

The door was opened slowly by a round man with a little grease on one temple,near his early receding hairline. He was clearly dressed in one of his best suits, which he must not have occasion to wear often since it looked awfully tight around the waist. Deciding the man must be Mister Michael Peavy, Paul stuck his hand out.

"Mister Peavy?" he asked cordially. "I'm Paul Hood, your caseworker. We've spoken on the phone."

Peavy's brow furrowed, but he shook Paul's hand. "Mike," he replied.

Relieved to be on familiar terms right off the bat, especially after what he considered a rocky start, Paul smiled at the father. "In that case, please call me Paul. May I come in?"

Peavy nodded stiffly before standing aside. He motioned for Paul to enter their house, which appeared to have been recently cleaned within an inch of its life. The scents of lemon and pine hung thick in the air. He followed Peavy into the family room. A woman, presumably Missus Peavy, sat stiffly on the sofa in an ironed maternity dress. There were two boys in the family room as well, dressed up and hair slicked down. The younger boy, who appeared to be about two or three, was watching the adults intently. The older boy sat quietly on the far end of the sofa, eyes averted.

"Hello." Paul smiled as he attempted to look as nonthreatening as possible. He knelt in the floor to put himself at eye level with the younger boy. Paul held out a hand. "Nice to meet you, I'm Paul. I'm here to talk to your son."

He had expected the kid to laugh at him. The younger boy frowned. There was a tense silence until the boy pointed a finger in Paul's face. "My not like. Dumb man."

He heard a chuckle, but when he glanced in the direction he was sure it came from, the older boy's face was blank and innocent. Curious.

"Well," Paul smiled at the younger boy as he rocked back on his heels, "now that the introductions are out of the way, could Dean please take this dumb man to see his room?" He stood and brushed off his pants.

The mother nodded stiffly. "Dean?" she said in a strained voice. She leaned over to whisper, "Remember what we talked about. Dad and I will be right here. We're not going anywhere, Dean."

Eyes still averted, the boy responded with a single nod. With a bowed head Dean headed for the stairs. Paul gave the parents a questioning look, wanting to be certain this was indeed Dean. Missus Peavy drew in a sharp breath as she watched the older boy walk slowly up the stairs. Mister Peavy, Mike, motioned for him to hurry up. Clearly they wanted this interview over and done with.

Paul tried to not follow the boy too close, seeing how quiet and withdrawn he already appeared to be. He passed a closed door to open the door to a lighted bedroom. Paul opened the closed bedroom door. It was dark and there was a bed in there, but nothing else. There was no chest of drawers or a single toy in sight, yet there was a lock on the outside of the door just like in the original report by the police officer investigating the scene.

Leaving the empty bedroom, Paul followed the quiet boy into the lighted room. There was a large queen sized bed in the middle of the room, headboard pushed up against the far wall. Toy-filled shelves lined one wall while the other wall had two dressers. Again the room was unnaturally spotless.

Dean sat on the large bed, far too large for such a little kid. He was six? Almost seven? Paul pretended to study some of the toys on the shelves. All of the lower shelves housed toys for a younger child while the upper shelves clearly belonged to Dean.

"Dean? Is this your room?" Paul asked, keeping one eye on the boy while picking up a robot toy.

The boy did not fidget or look at him. Thin shoulders rose in a half-hearted shrug.

Paul decided intimidation would not work on this kid, he was far too intimidated as it was. He sat in the floor in front of the boy.

"Dean?" he asked gently, trying to catch the boy's eye. "Do you know why I'm here?"

Dean's eyes lifted briefly to look at Paul before he nodded.

"There are questions about how your leg was hurt. Can you tell me about that?" Dean was barely responsive. His nods, head shakes and shrugs looked painfully forced. Kids who had been locked away in rooms or closets for long periods, fed just enough to stay alive, were slightly less responsive than this boy.

"Dean, I really need you to tell me what happened." Paul hoped he could reason with a six year old. "If someone is hurting you, I can help. I can help stop it."

Now Dean's head did lift and looked directly at Paul, a clear look of surprise on his face.

"No!" shouted from the doorway. Paul turned to find the chubby two or three year old from downstairs glaring at him. He stormed over to the bed, where he climbed into his older brother's lap. "My Dean," he declared loudly. "My brudder."

Paul smiled at the younger boy's protectiveness. "Your big brother?" he asked.

The boy took both of Dean's arms and wrapped them around his wait. "My Dean," he said again. "Nobody hurt my Dean!"

Then, while he watched, Dean leaned over to whisper into the boy's ear. The little boy's face twisted in a sour expression. "My Dean," he repeated stubbornly, leaning against his brother's chest while glaring at Paul.

Dean spoke to the little boy. He could use this.

"What's your name?" Paul asked, not moving from his position on the floor.

Paul watched Dean whisper again into the boy's ear. "My Sammy," the little boy said grudgingly. "My Dean's brudder."

Paul nodded at the little kid. "Okay, Sammy. Want to play a game? You, me and Dean?"

Sammy looked at him suspiciously. "And Dean?" he asked slowly.

Paul grinned. This could work. It was unconventional, but he had high hopes for it working. "And Dean," he promised. "Here's the game. I ask you a question. You ask Dean the same question. Dean whispers the answer in your ear, then you tell me Dean's answer. Ready to play?"

Sammy stared at him for a long moment. Paul noticed a weak smile play across Dean's face, probably relief over not having to speak with him directly. Dean whispered into Sammy's ear.

"Okay," Sammy said slowly. "Dean say okay, so Sammy say okay, but my not like." He hung on to Dean's arms even tighter. Paul liked little Sammy's protectiveness of his brother. Dean definitely had some issues, but physical abuse might not be one of them.

"Good." Paul smiled at both boys. "First question, Sammy. Is this Dean's room?"

"My know that," Sammy protested.

"But the game is, you have to ask Dean," Paul insisted. "Then you tell me what Dean's answer is."

Sammy sighed heavily, as if he were being heavily put upon. He tilted his head back to look at his brother. "Is dis Dean's room?" he asked in a bored monotone.

Dean whispered in his little brother's ear. Sammy sat up and looked Paul in the eye. "Dis Dean and Sammy's room."

"Dean, was the room next door ever your room?" he asked.

Sammy's expression soured again. "My not like dat question. Ask 'nother one."

Shocked, Paul could only stare at the little boy. "How old are you?" he demanded.

"My two," he replied with a scowl. "My Dean six."

"You're only two?" Paul asked incredulously. "Really?"

Sammy leaned back. "My really two?"

Dean whispered in the little boy's ear, an amused look on his face. Sammy leaned forward again. "Sammy almost three."

Paul nodded, relieved the boy hadn't just turned two. He certainly acted more like he was three or four. "Next question," he announced. "Ready, Sammy?"

Sammy huffed and rolled his eyes dramatically. This kid was a real character. Dean nudged his little brother's side with his fingers. "Fi-i-ine."

"How long have you and Dean shared a room?" Paul asked.

"For ever and ever," Sammy snapped. "My Dean."

"Sammy, you were supposed to ask Dean," Paul reminded the boy.

"Dean say for ever and ever," Sammy insisted, not looking back at his brother.

"How do you know if Dean didn't tell you?" Paul asked.

"My know," Sammy replied authoritatively, leaning back on his brother's chest.

"Sammy!" The mother was in the doorway. "I thought I told you to find one of your movies." She looked horrified.

Paul smiled at her. "Please let him stay," he requested. "Sammy is being very helpful."

"H-he is?" she stuttered. Indecision crossed her face. "I'd rather he not be in here alone."

"Sammy's not alone with me," Paul replied evenly, rather disturbed she would disregard Dean's presence like this. "His big brother is here."

Dean's cheeks pinked and his head dipped down when Paul mentioned him.

"Oh, well..." She looked trapped. "I didn't mean..." Missus Peavy swallowed hard. "Well, if Sammy isn't in the way, I suppose it's all right. Boys?" They both looked directly at her. "I'm downstairs if you need me. All right?"

Sammy nodded instantly. "'kay, Mommy."

"Dean?" she said in a sterner voice.

He nodded slowly at her, eyes riveted to her. After Missus Peavy left, Dean let out the breath he had been holding and his entire body relaxed. Well, even if he wasn't being physically abused, there was something going on between Dean and his adoptive mother. Child molestation?

"Sammy, do you and Dean share this nice big bed?" Paul asked. Both boys nodded at him. "Does Mommy or Daddy ever come in your bed?"

The boys exchanged a surprised look before shaking their heads.

"Do you or Dean ever sleep in Mommy and Daddy's room?" he tried.

Now they both laughed openly at him. Well, okay, maybe not. One more shot.

"Sammy, ask Dean if Mommy or Daddy touches inside his underwear," Paul instructed.

Sammy gave him the strangest look. Then he shook his head and mumbled, "Dummy." Dean snorted back a giggle. Dean whispered in the younger boy's ear.

"Dean not wear diapers," Sammy announced loudly. "Dean big boy." Sammy's eyes rolled again as Dean snickered. Great. No molestation and both boys thought he was a complete moron for asking stupid questions.

He decided to try again for how and why Dean was locked in the next bedroom and kicked out the window. "Dean, a few weeks ago you were in the hospital..."

"No!" Sammy shouted, one pudgy hand in the air. "Bad word!" He shook a fat finger at Paul. "My not like. Big people not talk about dat." He clamped his hands on Dean's arms again. "My Dean," he said fiercely.

"Sammy?" Paul decided on another tact. "Did someone try to take your Dean away?"

Sammy's face soured again as he nodded and his eyes blazed with fury. "Mommy and Daddy," he said venomously. "And big people at dat yucky place. My not let dem do it 'gain. Dean stay here."

Paul nodded seriously at the little boy. "I think that's a very good idea," he said. "And I'll bet Dean doesn't like being separated from you either, does he?"

Sammy's head whipped side to side, wild brown hair smacking his brother in the face. Dean did not seem to mind, hanging on to his little brother with overt affection. Paul stood slowly, not wanting to frighten either child. "Would you boys like to play up here while I talk to your parents for a few minutes?" he asked.

Relief flooded both kids' faces as they nodded eagerly. This was an old trick, but it nearly always worked. Paul walked out as if he were headed straight downstairs. He waited in the hallway, out of sight, to eavesdrop.

"Dean?" Sammy asked. "Dean want to play?"

"Sure, Sammy." The older boy's voice was clear and calm. "What are we playing?"

"Cars," Sammy stated. "Dean, dat man is a dummy, right?"

Dean laughed at his little brother. "You said it, Sammy."

"Dumb man make Sammy mad, saying Dean wear diapers," Sammy said.

Dean laughed again. "Yeah, I know, Sammy. It's okay, he's gone now. Do you want to use the red car this time?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Paul could hear soft thumps, so he figured Sam was jumping up and down in his excitement. He made for the stairs as quietly as he could, now knowing Dean did not sound mentally deficient and the boy did not have an embarrassing speech impediment.

He found the parents waiting downstairs on pins and needles. Paul knew the look well. "I just have couple of questions for you, and we'll be done here," he informed them.

Mike nodded without speaking. Neither invited him to sit, but Paul sat in an armchair opposite the parents anyway.

"I take it the incident which landed Dean in the hospital was a direct result of an attempt to separate the boys?" he asked.

The parents exchanged a guilty look before Missus Peavy answered for both of them. "Dean's therapist recommended it," she said slowly. "He's not seeing that idiot any more." She sounded just as venomous as Sammy when she said that.

Paul stared at them, but he suspected there was no deception on their part. "The therapist recommended locking him in a separate room?" he asked, not quite believing it.

Mike cleared his throat nervously. "Uh, yeah," he said. "We were shocked, but he insisted. Kept saying the boys were too close, that it was unhealthy. He even mentioned if we didn't do something about it now, they might try to hurt the baby." Mike glanced nervously at his wife.

Paul frowned at them. "Why is Dean seeing a therapist?"

Missus Peavy's eyes locked on him. "Well you saw him!" she hissed. "He doesn't speak. He might say one word, two if we're lucky. Don't tell me you think that's normal! And we have no idea what happened the night his mother died."

Paul consulted his notes again. "That's right. His mother died and the father abandoned both boys to your care." He looked up at them. "What about the night their mother died?"

She turned to her husband. Mike shifted nervously. "I never believed John could do such a thing, but Dean was there. We think he saw it."

"Saw what?" Paul was trying to be patient.

Missus Peavy cleared her throat. With a guilty glance toward the stairs, she whispered, "We're certain Dean saw his mother die." She swallowed hard. "And he hates his father, so maybe..." She spread her hands wide with a pained expression.

Well, that would explain a lot. "And that's the reason you have him in therapy?"

Both adults nodded. He really couldn't fault them there. They were taking the right steps and it would make them look very good in his report.

"Would you mind a little advice?" Paul asked. Without waiting for an answer, he plunged right in. "Don't make any major changes to normal household routines, regardless of what these therapists tell you. Those boys are extremely attached. If you force them apart, I'm afraid it could have serious consequences.

"I've been involved in a numerous cases where siblings had to be separated in order to be adopted. In one case the siblings were so close both went into a severe depression. One acted out violently while the other withdrew completely. It was horrible. Both adoptions were extremely difficult on everyone involved." Paul took a deep breath. "It's a mistake I have no intention of repeating." He pointed upstairs. "Those boys may be even closer than the case I was referring to."

Mike and his wife exchanged a look of surprise.

"You do know Dean talks to his brother, don't you?" Paul asked.

Missus Peavy gasped in surprise. No, clearly they didn't know.

"You don't mean in complete sentences?" Mike asked in a stern voice.

Paul nodded at them. "Of course. Complete conversations. It's probably part of the reason Sammy's conversational skills are so good."

The Peavys exchanged a dark look.

"Well, I hope you at least consider my recommendation," Paul said as he stood. "I'll file my report. We'll have to schedule a follow-up visit, but most likely that will be all. I haven't seen anything in this visit which could be construed as very concerning. Especially if Dean continues to sleep in an unlocked room."

Mike slammed a hand against his forehead. "I knew I was forgetting to do something!" Paul waited for him to elaborate. "I meant to remove that stupid bolt from the spare room door. It's going to be the baby's room."

"It might be a good idea to do it before the follow-up visit," he suggested. "I can see myself out."

Paul did not particularly care for the dark look the Peavys had exchanged, but also did not have a sense of actual abuse in this household. Perhaps Dean had been severely abused in the past, but not now. He trusted his instincts, they were usually right.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, several people have mentioned that they hate Mike and Kate. Sorry about that. It wasn't my intention. This is a couple who are completely out of their depth in their attempts to care for a shell-shocked child suffering severe abandonment issues. They keep trying, even though they're doing all the wrong things. Hopefully this chapter shows it a little better. And if you liked protective!Sammy before, well, there's lots more of that coming your way!!

**Chapter 2**

Dean followed Sammy down to dinner. He felt Mom's and Mike's eyes watching him. It made him nervous. Dean kept his eyes averted, frightened of making eye contact with the adults.

"Dean," Mom said, patting his usual chair across from Sammy. With heavy steps, Dean started to walk around the table.

"No," Sammy said angrily. Dean froze, he knew better than to cross his little brother when Sammy sounded like that. "My Dean sit here." Chubby Sammy stalked over to the nearest chair to pull it next to his. Mom had not given permission so Dean did not dare help.

"Hang on," Mike said. He took the chair from Sammy and set it on the same side of the table as Sammy's chair. "There you go, Dean."

Slowly Dean sat down next to Sammy. He wondered why Sammy was being given his way at the dinner table, Mom was typically very strict at the table.

"Dean not like dat," Sammy said, pushing away a bowl of brussel sprouts. Actually, Dean did not mind eating them. He glanced over at his little brother. Sammy waved for more of the meat. "Dean want more."

Mike added meat to his plate until Sammy told him to stop, then meat was put on Sammy's plate and cut into bit sized pieces.

"Cut Dean's too," Sammy insisted with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Honey," Mom said gently. "Dean is a big boy. He can cut his own meat."

Sammy glowered at Mom. "Cut Dean's. My not like Dean cut hisself."

"Okay, Sammy," Mike told him, cutting up Dean's steak. "There. Is that better?"

Sammy glared at Mike for a moment before nodding, his hair bouncing around. "Dean like trees."

Mike added broccoli to Dean's and Sammy's plates. "Potatoes?" he asked as he picked up the bowl.

Sammy looked at Dean. He poked a chubby finger into Dean's side. "Need meat," he said stubbornly. "Dean skinny."

Mom and Mike both laughed at Sammy and Mike added potatoes to their plates. "Potatoes will put some meat on Dean's bones, Sammy. I promise."

Dean concentrated on eating while Mom and Mike talked to Sammy.

"Did Dean talk to the man, Sammy?" Mom asked.

Sammy answered with food in his mouth. "No. My talk."

"What did the man ask?" Mike wanted to know.

Sammy made a face. "Dummy," he said disdainfully. "Dumb man asked if Dean weared diapers." Sammy snorted hard. "Dean big brother, not baby."

Dean ruffled Sammy's hair affectionately. He loved the way Sammy had stuck up for him upstairs.

"Why would he ask that?" Mike asked Mom. Mom's eyes were wide and she shook her head.

"My tol' you," Sammy said in a loud voice. "Dummy."

"Sammy, I think I agree with you," Mike said with a grin. Dean relaxed a little as he finished his dinner. They tried asking Sammy more questions about the strange man, but Sammy was stuck on the diaper thing. It was all Dean could do not to laugh at the table. When he finished he waited for Sammy so they could be dismissed from the table.

"You boys go ahead and get ready for bed," Mom said as she picked up the dirty dishes from the table. "I'll be up in a little while to tuck you in."

Dean followed Sammy upstairs. He gave Sammy his bath before washing himself off. Then Dean helped Sammy dry off and into his pajamas. When they were both ready for bed, Sammy picked the book he wanted and thrust it into Dean's hands.

"Dean read," Sammy insisted.

Dean's heart sped up as he stared at the book in his hands. "B-but Sammy, I can't read good."

"My not care," Sammy said as he climbed into their new big bed. "My want Dean read." He patted the bed beside him.

Dean preferred for Mom to read Sammy's nighttime story. Sometimes she even ruffled his hair too before turning out the light. Well, so much for that. Dean crawled into bed next to his little brother and Sammy curled up against him. Dean flipped open the book. He didn't know a lot of the words, the book Sammy picked was too hard for him, so he made up a story to go along with the pictures. Sammy giggled a lot. When Dean was finished he set the book aside.

"How was that?" he asked.

Sammy laughed as he snuggled closer. "Dean need practice."

Dean tickled his brother in the side. "Maybe Sammy needs to pick easier books."

Sammy squealed until Mom walked in the room. "Who's ready for storytime?" she asked with a big smile.

"Storytime finished," Sammy announced. "Mommy tuck in my and Dean."

Mommy's face looked hurt and Dean turned his head so he wouldn't have to see it. "But I always read to you, Sammy."

Sammy's head shook. "My Dean read now. Mommy say night-night." He pointed to Dean. "Dean first."

Mommy sat on his side of the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. Dean did not want to see disappointment in her face so he closed his eyes. He felt her hand brush gently across his forehead.

"Kiss," Sammy demanded.

Warm lips pressed against his cheek, then the weight at his side left. Of course she loved Sammy more, Dean thought, she knew him since he was a baby. Dean was the outsider, but he liked the fact she tried to love him too. He heard her tuck Sammy in and kiss his cheek. Then Mommy turned off the light.

"Dean?" Sammy sounded scared.

"What, Sammy?" he whispered. Sammy squirmed closer, until his head was on Dean's chest.

"My not like dark," he whispered.

"I know Sammy," Dean said as he held his little brother tight. "I'm here. Nothing bad will get you."

Sammy's head nodded against Dean's chest. How could such a little kid be so commanding with the lights on, and so scared when they were off? Sammy was breathing deep and regular, sound asleep, long before Dean allowed himself to fall asleep.

* * *

Dean flipped through the television channels, hoping for something decent to watch before Sammy woke up from his nap. Once Sammy was up, he had to watch silly cartoons. Dean preferred the shows with real people, but they bored Sammy.

"Okay, Pop," a character on a show said. Dean paused in his channel flipping to watch. The boy leaned over to kiss an older man on the head.

"Be home by ten!" the man called out.

"Sure thing, Pop!" the boy shouted from the front door. Dean leaned forward in his eagerness. What was this?

The older man shook his head as he lifted his newspaper. "Kids," he snorted, then he smiled.

"Dear?" A woman in a bright colored dress walked into the room. "Was that Ritchie?"

"Sure was. He's going out," the man said.

"What? Again?" The woman looked flustered. "But we haven't had dinner yet!"

The man shrugged. "He's a big boy now, Marion."

Dean turned the television off. Pop was another name for a dad. A slow smile spread across his face. He wasn't allowed to call Mike by his first name, and Dean refused to call the man Dad. Dads liked to leave their kids and he didn't want Mike to leave. Pop. He could use Pop.

"Dean?" Mommy's voice came from behind him. "What is it?" A timid smile appeared. "You look like you're really happy about something."

Dean allowed his grin to widen as he nodded eagerly. He wondered if they knew about the name Pop.

Mommy sat on the couch. "What is it? Can you tell me?"

Dean considered it. No, he couldn't tell her, it would mean he would have to talk a lot. He did not like talking to anyone except Sammy, it made him feel too weird.

"Color?" he asked.

Mommy's smile widened. "Okay, Dean. Go sit at the table and I'll get the colors."

Dean bounded off the floor and rushed to the dining table. He waited impatiently for Mommy to bring him the crayons and paper.

"Here you go," she said. "I even brought you four pages."

Wow! Four? What a special treat. Dean carefully set aside two for Sammy. He set to work on one of the others. First he drew Mike, then Mommy with her baby belly. Next came Sammy then finally himself on the far edge of the page. Dean carefully printed his name over his head. Then he wrote Sammy's name in big letters, because Sammy would like it, with an arrow down to his drawing of his brother. He wrote 'babe' and drew an arrow at Mommy's tummy. Then he printed Mommy over her head. Now, for the real reason he wanted to draw this picture. He studied the crayons carefully to pick just the right color. Ah, blue would be perfect. Now Dean carefully printed Pop over Mike's head.

"Dean?" Sammy's sleepy voice came from the doorway. Dean spun around, holding up his picture proudly. Sammy walked over to him, rubbing his eyes. He took the picture and studied it carefully.

"Dat me?" Sammy asked, pointing at Dean's drawing of him. Dean nodded. Sammy climbed into the chair next to him. "Read," he demanded.

Dean leaned close to Sammy's ear as he read each of the captions, saving the best for last. "Pop," he declared proudly when he came to Mike.

Sammy turned to stare at him. "Pop?" he asked. "Dean want call Daddy Pop?"

Dean nodded eagerly. Then Sammy's eyes went big and round. "Wait a minute!" A big grin covered Sammy's face. "Not Mike? Pop?"

Dean nodded again.

"Mommy!" Sammy shouted.

Mommy came rushing to the table. "Sammy," she said breathlessly, "you're awake? That was a short nap." She rubbed her eye with one hand.

"Mommy, look!" Sammy demanded. "Dean drawed our family."

Dean could not shake the grin on his face as Mommy picked up his picture. She even smiled! At him! "Very nice, Dean," she said. "Can I put it on the fridge?"

Dean nodded, so proud he finally got something on the fridge. Mommy moved one of Sammy's pictures over to put his up, right in the middle of the door. Dean pushed two papers over for Sammy to color. Sammy grabbed a crayon and went right to work. Dean looked at his paper for a long time before deciding what he wanted to draw. There was something he had been dreaming about, again and again.

He drew steps, lots and lots and lots of steps like a really long staircase. Then he drew himself walking down the stairs with baby Sammy in his arms. He took the gray crayon next and colored all over it, because it was always dark in his bad dreams. Now he grabbed red and added it all around them.

"Dean?" Mommy asked, watching him color. "What are you drawing?"

Dean shrugged as he added more red. "Dream."

"Is this you, Dean?" Mommy asked, pointing to his picture. Dean paused in his coloring to nod. She pointed to the baby in his arms. "Is that Sammy?"

Dean nodded again, adding more red above them.

"Is Mommy okay?" Sammy asked.

Dean's head snapped up. Mommy was staring at his drawing and crying. He made Mommy cry? Oh, no. Oh no! Dean crumpled his paper up quickly and raced to the trashcan. He dumped it inside before running up to the safety of his room. Dean hid in the closet, hoping all the bad stuff would just leave him alone. Why wouldn't bad stuff just leave him alone? After a while he became aware of Sammy sitting beside him and his arm around his little brother.

A knock on the closet door drew his attention. "Sammy? Dean?" It was Mommy. Dean didn't want to see Mommy, he made her cry. "Can I come in?"

"Dean all better?" Sammy whispered.

"Make her go away, Sammy," Dean whispered. "I don't want to make Mommy cry."

"Dean sorry?" Sammy asked.

Dean nodded in the dark closet.

"Dean sorry!" Sammy shouted. "Dean not want Mommy cry!"

"I'm not crying," Mommy said through the door. "Please let me come in. Please?"

"No cry," Sammy said again as he stood up. "Mommy want in," he said in a soft voice to Dean. "My let Mommy in."

Dean wanted to protest but Mommy would hear him, so he wrapped his arms around his legs and hid his face. Light spilled in, filling the closet. Dean kept his face hidden. He felt Mommy sit next to him, then he felt her hand on his back.

"It's okay, Dean," she said softly. "I'm not crying. Look at me, Dean. I promise, I'm not crying."

Dean lifted his head slowly, scared to open his eyes. With a deep breath, he forced his eyes to open. Mommy looked fine, not like she had been crying at all. Did he imagine it? Maybe... Maybe he did.

"There's more paper on the table," Mommy said. "Does anyone feel like coloring some more?"

Sammy's eyes lit up and he looked eagerly at him. "Can we, Dean? Can we? My want color."

He didn't really want to, because he might make Mommy cry again, but he couldn't say no to Sammy. Dean nodded at his little brother.

"Yay!" Sammy shouted in the small closet before racing out. Dean could hear Sammy's feet stomping down the stairs.

Mommy struggled to stand up again and Dean felt crushing guilt. He tried to help her stand. Finally she put one hand on his shoulder and used him to push herself up.

"Thank you, Dean," Mommy said with a smile. "You're a big help."

Dean didn't believe her, not for a second, but it was nice of her to say it. Downstairs he waited until Mommy left the room to check the trashcan. He wanted to destroy the bad picture, but it was gone. He did throw it away, right? Right. Weird. Well, at least it was gone now.

Relieved, Dean went back to working on smiling flowers, smiling clouds, and a smiley sun. No more pictures which could make Mommy cry. From now on, everything would have a happy face. No more pictures about his bad dreams. Ever.

* * *

Kate smoothed out Dean's picture of the burning house and smoke-filled stairwell. The little boy running down the stairs was Dean, and either Dean played with baby dolls when he was little or he carried Sammy out of their burning house. Good God, no wonder Dean was so attached to his little brother. He literally saved Sammy from burning to death like their mother.

What the hell had John Winchester been doing when all this was happening?

She really did not want to think about that horrible man. Kate pushed him from her mind, focusing instead on Dean. The new therapist needed to see this. So did Mike. Oh, dear. Mike was going to blow a gasket.

* * *

It was so difficult to allow Sammy to change their normal nighttime routine. The little boy insisted on Dean 'reading' his bedtime story now, and only afterwards were she and Mike allowed in to tell the boys goodnight. They got a bit of a shocker this evening.

First Kate sat on each side of the bed and tucked in each boy, kissing him on the cheek and saying goodnight. First Dean and then Sammy told her, "Night, Mommy."

Mike stood in the doorway watching. His hand over the light switch, he said, "Good night, boys."

"Night, Daddy," Sammy said in his sweet little voice.

"Night, Pop," Dean said.

Number one, it was the first time Dean had said more than a single word to Mike. Number two, he called Mike something other than 'Mike,' which they had put their collective foot down about months ago.

Sammy laughed and clapped his hands in delight. "Pop!" he crowed. Then Sammy flung his chubby arms around his big brother and hugged him tight. Dean smiled fondly at the toddler as he hugged Sammy back.

Mike shook his head as he switched off the light. Kate followed her husband downstairs to their bedroom.

"Pop?" he demanded. "Where did he come up with Pop?"

Kate shrugged. "It wasn't me. Maybe someone in school?"

Mike rolled his eyes as he sat on the bed and kicked one of his shoes off. "Right. Because he's mister conversationalist."

Kate glared at her husband. "Just because he doesn't talk doesn't mean he can't listen," she snapped.

Mike shook his head at her. "Yeah, I know. Please, honey, I don't want to fight." He pulled off his other shoe and tossed it against the wall. "Come here, you."

A smile pulled at her lips as she walked closer to him. He hugged her, his arms wrapping around her hips and his cheek pressed into her huge bulging stomach.

"At least he isn't calling you Mike," she said.

Mike sighed. "But Pop? That sounds like something from, I don't know, _Happy Days_."

Kate grinned at him. "Better check the fridge. Dean drew a picture of the family today and labeled everyone."

"So I graduated from Mike without an e on the end to Pop?" He rolled his eyes as he released her. "Well, I'll work on him. He'll call me Dad yet."

"Yes, dear," Kate replied with a grin. "I'm sure he will. But, uh, Dean drew another picture today." She removed it from the drawer in her dresser where she had hidden it. "I'm not positive, but I think it's the night their mother died," Kate said as she handed it over.

With a frown, Mike took the crumbled page from her hand. "Is this Dean carrying Sammy out of a burning house?" he demanded, his voice quivering with anger.

"That's what it looks like to me," Kate replied.

"That lousy, good-for-nothing son-of-a-bitch," he swore as he glared at the page. Eyes boiling with rage looked up at her. "And where the hell was he? Why wasn't John carrying them both outside?"

Kate shrugged as she sat next to Mike. She ran her hand over his tense shoulders, rubbing the tight muscles there. "I'm not sure I want to know," she admitted.

Mike grunted and no doubt would have balled the paper up again if Kate hadn't stopped him. "Honey, I think we should show this to Dean's new therapist. Maybe it would help. He did say he had a dream about it. Maybe it's one of his nightmares."

Mike stood up and stuck it back in the drawer where she had been hiding it. "Fine," he muttered. "But if that bastard ever shows his face again..."

"We'll call the police," Kate said firmly. "It might be a good idea to go ahead and file a restraining order."

Mike groaned at the suggestion. "Katie, we have two kids and a baby on the way. Where are we going to come up with enough money to get a restraining order on a man who disappeared over two years ago?"

Kate shrugged. "Just a thought."

"No more thinking tonight," Mike declared. "Let's hit the sack."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Four months later**

Dean laid awake in bed listening to the baby in the next room cry. Sammy could sleep through anything, except maybe a thunderstorm. When he realized Mom and Pop weren't coming, Dean slipped out of bed, careful not to rock Sammy too much. The poor baby needed to sleep.

He tiptoed into the room next door, pushing the door open quietly. He tried to lower the side of the baby bed, the way Mommy did, but it was dark in here and Dean couldn't see how it worked. With a deep sigh, he got behind the bed and pushed it out into the hallway. It rolled easily on the small wheels it had on the bottom. Dean pushed it into his and Sammy's room. Here he could find the lamp and turn it on.

With a quick glance at Sammy, who was still sound asleep, Dean checked out the side of the crib. Baby Mikey was really crying now. Oh, was that it? Dean pushed a thingy and the side slid down. Hurray! He reached in and gathered the crying baby in his arms.

Baby Mikey smelled bad. Uh-oh. He needed a diaper. Should Dean go wake up Mommy? Mommy looked so tired since Baby Mikey came and she complained all the time about not sleeping enough. No, Dean decided, it might be disgusting but he could do it. Mommies needed their rest. Sometimes he wondered if the real reason his mommy, the first one, died was because she couldn't sleep enough. Right after Dad left them here, all the adults and doctors had told him Mommy hadn't wanted to die, it just happened, then no one talked about it ever again. But no one ever told him why she had been on fire in Sammy's room. Maybe tired mommies taking care of crying babies caught fire? Dean shivered with the thought. Now he was determined to look after Baby Mikey so the mommy he had now could sleep.

He laid the fussy baby down in the middle of his and Sammy's bed.

"Dean?" Sammy asked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. "Whacha doing?"

"Baby Mikey needs a diaper," Dean told his little brother. "Watch him while I get it."

Without waiting for an answer, Dean went next door. He found a diaper and the wipes to clean the baby's butt and the baby powder. Cradling it all in his arms, Dean went back to their room. He dumped it all on the bed next to Baby Mikey.

"Better hold your nose," Dean warned Sammy. "It's about to get real stinky."

He waited for Sammy to pinch his nose with two fat fingers before unsnapping the baby's outfit. He pulled off the tabs that held the diaper on. When he lifted the top up, the worst smell ever assaulted him. His eyes burned and watered but Baby Mikey stopped crying.

"No wonder he's so upset," Dean choked out as he tried waving the foul stench away. "That's just nasty!"

"Nasty!" Sammy echoed, his voice funny with his nose pinched closed.

Dean pulled a handful of wet wipes out and went to work. When Baby Mikey's butt was mostly clean, Dean pulled the nasty diaper away. He shoved the wet wipes inside and wrapped it up. Trusting Sammy to watch the baby, Dean took the nasty diaper back next door. When he came back, he found Sammy trying to put the clean diaper on. Dean helped, fastening the diaper so it wouldn't fall off. It didn't look as good as when Mommy did it, but if it stayed on then it should be okay.

Dean picked Baby Mikey back up and put him in the crib. His whole body instantly relaxed and he let out a little sigh. The baby fell asleep right away, just like Sammy always had when he was a baby.

"Bed," Dean ordered as he headed for the lamp. After Sammy was under the covers, Dean turned off the light. He crawled into bed next to Sammy.

"Baby Mikey stinks," Sammy said as he snuggled tight against Dean.

Dean laughed. "Just his diapers," he said. "Baby Mikey isn't all bad. He's your baby brother too, you know."

Sammy's head shook against Dean's side. "My Dean," he said stubbornly. "My not share. My big brudder."

Dean held Sammy close. "Sammy, I'll always be your big brother. Promise. Even if I'm Baby Mikey's big brother too."

Sammy's arms tightened around him. "Dean promise?"

"Promise," Dean repeated, hugging Sammy. He rested his chin on the top of Sammy's head. "You're gonna love being a big brother Sammy. It's awesome."

Sammy yawned loudly and his arms relaxed their crushing hold. Dean settled down, hoping Baby Mikey wouldn't wake up again before morning.

* * *

Kate woke feeling refreshed and relaxed. She had forgotten what it was like to get a full night's sleep. A full night's sleep!

She sat bolt upright in bed with an anxious look at the alarm clock. It was six in the morning? How the hell did that happen? Panicked, Kate snatched her robe as she bolted from her bedroom and raced for the baby's room. She stopped in Mikey's doorway and screamed.

Where was the baby? Where was the crib?

"Mommy!" Sammy's voice came from behind her. Kate spun around. He had a finger pressed against his lips. "Mommy quiet. Baby sleeping."

She glanced over her shoulder at the baby's room. Still no baby.

"Sammy?" she asked in a strained voice. "Do you know where the baby is?"

Sammy gave her a disgusted look. "Duh. My room."

Kate rushed past Sammy and nearly cried with relief when she saw the crib in the boys' room. The side was down, which was concerning. Dean stood on the side with one hand rubbing Mikey's back. He pressed one finger against his lips too.

"It's okay," she insisted, all kinds of horrible scenarios of crib death and small children accidentally suffocating infants racing through her mind. "It's time for Mikey to wake up anyway." Kate scooped the sleeping infant into her arms. She held his face close to her cheek so she could feel warm baby breath against her skin. Then his big blue eyes blinked open and he started fussing for his breakfast.

Relieved her baby was all right, Kate glanced between the older boys. "What is the crib doing in here?" she demanded.

Sammy yawned. "Baby Mikey stinky. Dean make Baby Mikey all better."

Kate frowned at them. What did that mean? Holding the baby, Kate went back into the nursery. There was a strong smell in here. She spotted a lump in the middle of the floor. Upon closer inspection, Kate discovered it was a wadded up dirty diaper.

"Sammy!" Kate snapped. She waited until the little boy stood in the doorway. "Where did this dirty diaper come from?"

"My told you," Sammy replied in an irritable voice. "Dean make it all better."

Her gaze shifted to the six year old standing behind Sammy. "Dean? You changed Mikey's diaper?" she asked. Dean looked extremely guilty as he nodded. Kate picked it up with her free hand and put it in the diaper pail. "The dirty ones go in here," she said weakly.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled.

Kate was torn between feeling amazed such a young boy, not even a girl but a boy, would take on the responsibility for changing a baby's diaper and actually do a decent job, and fussing at him for not waking her up to do it. On the one hand she was impressed, but on the other hand Kate was horrified she was such a terrible mother that a six year old boy had shown her up. Kate resolved to do better. Dean would not need to kick out any more windows or change any more diapers, she promised herself.

It was a shame she couldn't keep both of the promises to herself. Nearly every morning Kate or Mike found the baby in Sammy and Dean's room. Sammy's excuses were becoming more creative. One morning he claimed a monster had tried to crawl in Mikey's window (though Sammy always called him Baby Mikey and Kate had NO idea where that came from) and Dean had to save him. Another morning it was aliens Dean had saved Mikey from. Her favorite was the baby burglar story and only Dean's super fast moves allowed him to snatch Baby Mikey back. Apparently Sammy thought cat burglars stole cats, too. Afterwards Kate had resolved not to watch crime shows until after the boys went to bed at night.

* * *

"Dean?" Sammy asked as he helped Dean push the crib into their room. "What's wrong wif Baby Mikey?"

"Nothin', Sammy," Dean replied, situating the crib between their bed and the wall. "Why?"

"Why we gots ta move Baby Mikey here alla time?" Sammy asked, crawling into bed.

"So we can keep an eye on him," Dean explained. "It's what big brothers do. We gotta make sure Baby Mikey is okay so Mommy can sleep."

"Ooooh," Sammy said knowingly. "My understand."

Dean smiled at his little brother, because he knew Sammy couldn't understand but he appreciated the fact Sammy said it. "Should I turn off the light?" he asked. "Or do you want another story?"

Sammy grinned and his eyes twinkled. "My want story. Princess story."

Dean made a face. "Again? Aren't you tired of that one yet?"

"My like it," Sammy stated. "Dean read."

Dean sighed as he pulled out Sleeping Beauty. He was so sick of this stupid story, but Sammy loved it. Dean wished he could read more of the words in it, so far he was simply reading the ones he knew and making up the rest. Oh, well. Sammy didn't seem to mind as long as the sword fight with the dragon was exciting. Dean usually reenacted that part, complete with leaping on and off the bed.

"Hey!" Pop shouted from the stairs. Dean's eyes went wide with fear. Busted! "You two are supposed to be asleep, what the hell are you doing up here?"

Dean dove under the covers, hastily pulling the comforter over their heads to hide. He heard their bedroom door squeak as Pop opened it. Dean braced himself for the shouting.

"What the..."

Dean didn't hear anything except Pop breathing hard. He cringed. If he had screwed up, again, they might decide not to keep him after all. Dean understood why they wanted Sammy, he was little and cute. Dean was a problem. He heard them talking about it all the time, when he wasn't supposed to be listening in. They didn't know what to do with him. He really tried their patience. Dean didn't want to try their patience, he was trying to be good, but he couldn't understand what Mom and Pop wanted.

"Daddy!" Sammy said from beside him. Dean poked his brother in the side, staying under the covers. "Sorry, Dean," Sammy said to him, patting his head through the comforter. "Pop not move Baby Mikey," Sammy declared. "My and Dean haveta move Baby Mikey back. My tired. Pop go night-night." Sammy laid back down.

He poked his little face under the covers. "Dean?" he said softly. "My tell Pop. Dean not scared?"

Dean felt the bed dip down on his side. He curled into Sammy, hoping if Sammy liked him enough it would make Mom and Pop keep him. They didn't have to keep him. Dad just left them here, Mom and Pop could get rid of him or Sammy any time they wanted. Well, they could get rid of him. They liked Sammy. Sammy was cute and funny. And Sammy liked to talk. Dean just didn't feel like talking most of the time.

He felt something touch his leg. Dean gasped in fear, clutching Sammy to him, his imagination conjuring monsters after Sammy.

"Easy, Dean," Pop crooned. "It's just me." Pop patted his leg until Dean relaxed his grip on Sammy. "That's better," he said gently. "Tell you what. Maybe this should be the boys' room, huh?"

Dean peeked out from under the covers to see if Pop was serious. He was smiling at Sammy and still patting Dean's leg.

"Think you two can sleep better if Mikey is in here?" Pop asked. When he looked at Dean, Dean ducked down a little, hoping Pop wouldn't change his mind.

"Baby Mikey," Sammy insisted. "My and Dean sleep better. Dean make Baby Mikey not dream bad."

Pop frowned and Dean cringed. Why did Sammy have to say that? They might lock Baby Mikey in the other room now! How was he supposed to look after the baby if they locked him away?

"Baby Mikey has bad dreams?" Pop asked. "How do you know?"

Pop was asking Sammy, not him, Dean realized with immense relief. He looked to Sammy for a good answer.

"Baby Mikey cry," Sam huffed. "Can my sleep now?"

"Oh, uh, sure." Pop smiled at both of them. He tousled Sammy's wild hair. "Does Dean keep you from having bad dreams too, Sammy?"

Sammy yawned as he shook his head. "My help Dean." He snuggled up close, his head on Dean's chest the way they always went to sleep. "Now Dean sleep good. See?"

Pop nodded as he stood up. "Good night, boys." He paused at the door. "Sweet dreams."

That was strange. Pop never told them to have sweet dreams before.

"Dean sleep now," Sammy told him with a hug. "Baby Mikey sleep good wif us, right?"

"Right," Dean assured his little brother as he held Sammy close and safe. Now that they were all in the same room, Dean let his eyes close. It was safe to sleep now. He hoped.

* * *

Mike sat heavily on his bed, his mind in a whirl. Did he really just leave an infant in the charge of a two and a six year old? He was insane, plain and simple. And Kate was going to kill him. He glanced down at his sleeping wife. Well, at least he would live until morning.

Mike slept fitfully, his dreams punctuated with images of children screaming inside a burning house. Three times Mike woke up in a cold sweat. Twice he sprinted upstairs to find everything perfectly fine, all three boys sleeping soundly. The third time Mike took the stairs slowly. He woke Dean last time, he didn't want to wake him again. Dean had merely opened his wide, deep green eyes and looked silently at him for an explanation. When Mike said he had a bad dream, Dean had nodded and hugged Sammy to his chest.

Now Mike crept slowly towards the boys' room. This time was different, though. There was a light on and he could hear young voices. Strange. The social worker mentioned Dean talked to Sammy, hadn't he? He tiptoed closer, but there were no more voices. Damn it. Mike peeked past the doorframe to peer into the room.

Dean leaned into the crib, one hand on the baby's back while Sammy's big eyes looked through slats in the crib. Little Mikey fussed again and Dean's hand rubbed his back. The baby settled down under Dean's attentions.

Once Little Mikey looked like he was sleeping, Dean put the crib side up. "Bed, Sammy," Dean said in a hushed voice. Sammy nodded and crawled into bed. Dean waited until after Sammy was back in bed before turning off the light. Mike waited until Dean was in bed, snuggled up with Sammy like the toddler was a giant teddy bear, before heading back downstairs.

A six year old was looking after an infant. Oh, God, if CPS wasn't ready to open a full formal investigation they would be if they discovered this. If the social worker came back, was there any way to cover this up that wouldn't upset Sammy or make Dean even more neurotic than he already was?

Mike paused halfway down the stairs, struck with a brilliant idea. They should put the baby monitor in the boys' room. Under the cover of listening for Mikey waking up during the night, they could hear if Dean really spoke in complete sentences. They would know for sure! His heart rate quickened with his excitement. Mike could hardly wait until morning to tell his wife about his brilliant plan. Not only should the older boys be satisfied, but they would be able to hear if Dean could speak more than two words at a time. Hot damn!

* * *

"He what?" Kate hissed, clearly trying to control her temper. "And you didn't step in?"

Mike shook his head. "Dean had it handled. I didn't want to jump in, it might have scared them and Mikey. You know how Mikey is when he's all worked up."

Kate's shoulders sagged. "Yeah. It would've taken hours to settle him down. Okay, fine." She sighed. "How bad are we at being parents?"

Mike stared at her a moment. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," her voice increased in volume as she stood, "we've had Dean and Sam for two years and we almost have to threaten Dean to speak one word to us. Now we're letting a six year old dictate where an infant sleeps! What the hell kind of parents are we!" Kate ended in a shout.

Mike rushed to shush her, before the boys could hear. He really wanted to try out the baby monitor thing and see how much Dean could talk. "I think we can use this," he said in a low voice, "to help Dean."

That seemed to work. Kate settled down a little, at least enough to listen to him. Mike outlined his baby monitor plan. She did not like it, but he managed to talk her into trying it. Today they would leave Mikey's crib in the boys' room and set up the baby monitor.

* * *

Kate watched the boys carefully all day. Several times she caught Dean standing over Mikey while the baby played or napped. He always had this odd, peaceful expression when she saw him like that. The first few times he scurried away quickly, as if she had caught him stealing a cookie.

When she walked in on him standing over Mikey on the playmat in the middle of the floor, Kate was hit with a good idea. It wasn't brilliant, but it was definitely good.

"Dean? Do you know where the arches for Mikey's mat are?" she asked, pausing in her trek through the room with a load of laundry.

Dean looked up at her with wide, deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes.

"You know," Kate insisted, "the things that attach to the corners and we hang toys from it for Mikey to look at?"

Dean nodded slowly and Kate could swear he was breathing hard.

"Let me know when you find them," she said, "and I'll help you put them on the mat." Kate walked briskly out of the room, certain Dean would do nothing while she stood there watching.

While she was shoveling clothes into the dryer, Kate saw movement from the corner of her eye. It was Dean, standing there holding the arches, his eyes downcast as he waited patiently.

"Just a minute," Kate said cheerfully. Hell, at least he was responding to her! Once the clothes were in the dryer, Kate dumped the dirty laundry in the washing machine. She added the detergent, slammed down the lid and pressed the start button with flourish, which had never failed to amuse Sammy. "Ta-da!"

Dean still stood there, stock still. Yeah, well, amusing a two year old was easier than a six year old. Clearly. Kate sighed in disappointment. "Come on," she managed to say.

Dean trailed closely behind her. Kate showed him how to attach one end of the arch, then while he held it she put in the other end. They put up the second arch and Kate snapped them together in the middle. She pointed out the mobile toys with mirrors and brightly colored shapes.

"Go ahead and put some of those up for Mikey," Kate told him. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

She felt Dean's eyes on her as she left the room. Kate walked directly over to the sink and turned on the water. She counted to ten before sneaking back to the door to the den. Pushing it open slightly, Kate was able to peek out into the den. Dean sat next to Mikey on the infant playmat. His mouth was moving, but Kate couldn't hear anything over the water running behind her, damn it. Okay, maybe one or two of her ideas were lousy ones. Dean put up a couple of toys and batted them around a little. Mikey's big baby eyes followed the movement and he wriggled in his excitement. Then she heard something new. Dean laughed.

"Dean?" Sammy walked into the room, rubbing his eyes. He must have woken up early from his afternoon nap. "What's funny?"

"Baby Mikey," Dean replied, his voice actually loud enough for Kate to hear this time. "Watch." He smiled broadly as he batted the hanging toys again. Again Mikey's whole body wriggled.

Sammy frowned and stomped over to Dean. He sat in his big brother's lap and glared at Mikey. "My brudder," he said to the baby in his most annoyed, tyrannical two year old voice.

"Little brother," Dean said, still smiling as he began tickling Sammy. Sammy squealed and crowed with delight, dropping to the floor next to Mikey. Then Dean placed a gentle hand on Mikey. "Baby brother."

Sammy frowned again. "Can we send Baby Mikey back?"

Dean laughed and shook his head. He motioned for Sammy to sit in his lap again. Kate couldn't hear them anymore so she moved away from the door to actually do the dishes. Was Dean heading off the sibling rivalry the therapists had warned them about? The therapists thought Dean would be the one with a problem with a new baby, but clearly it was Sammy. And just as clearly Dean had no trouble talking to his little brother. Either of them.

Kate wondered what it would take to be included on that short list.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks so much to everyone following this! This is one of my favorite chapters. Not only does it show the devotion Dean and Sam have for each other, but I loved the way the chapter ends.

**Chapter 4**

Mike came home that evening all charged up with excitement. First he set up the baby monitor transmitter in the boys' room with Sammy trailing behind him, asking a million questions. Dean stayed downstairs in the room where Mikey was, changing out toys. Sammy said something about Baby Mikey getting bored, he thought, but honestly Mike wasn't really paying too much attention.

* * *

Dean peered cautiously into his and Sammy's room. Baby Mikey's crib was still right where he left it this morning. Why were they leaving it here? Dean had to wonder. He never, ever had been able to get his way before. Okay, granted, Sammy asked Pop to leave the baby here...

A slow smile spread on his face. Sammy asked for it. Dean's eyes landed on his little brother playing cars on the floor. They wanted Sammy here, it was the only reason he was allowed to live here too. If Mom and Pop thought Sammy wanted something, they might give it to him. All Dean had to do was convince Sammy to tell Mom and Pop what _he_ wanted. Like a new football. Sammy left his outside in the rain and it was ruined. Mom had thrown it out last month.

As Dean dropped to the floor to sit next to Sammy, and maybe work on his new football, he noticed a blinking light. He nudged Sammy. "What's that?" he asked.

Sammy's head turned briefly, then he shrugged and went back to playing cars. "Pop did it. Now Pop and Mommy can hear Baby Mikey."

Dean stared at the green blinking light for a long time. If Mom and Pop could hear Baby Mikey, they could hear him and Sammy too. He walked over to look at it. A cord ran from it and plugged into the wall. Dean pulled the plug out of the wall socket. The blinking light stopped.

Relieved, Dean returned to Sammy and picked up one of the cars. "Sammy? Would you like to play football with me?"

Sammy's face lit up with a big grin. "My like, Dean! Now?"

Dean sighed, looking sad. "Oh, I guess we can't. Mom threw out my football, remember?"

Now Sammy looked guilt stricken. "My sowwy Dean. My vewy, vewy, vewy sowwy. My not do dat again."

Dean shrugged, sighing again. "You know, you could ask Mom to buy another one. Then we could play football again."

Sammy's face twisted in thought. "Mommy say no mow footballs."

"But I bet if _you_ asked her," Dean prodded, "she would say yes."

Sammy rolled his eyes. "My twy. Okay, Dean? My twy."

Dean grinned at his little brother. "Thanks, Sammy." He tousled Sammy's long hair.

* * *

Dean followed Sammy downstairs, wanting to be sure he asked Mom for the football. Sometimes Sammy could be distracted when he didn't want to do something. When Sammy wanted to do it, though, look out. There was no stopping him.

Sammy toddled into the main room, where Mom and Pop were watching television. Mom jumped up and turned it off when Sammy walked in. Pop looked annoyed, which was not good considering he wanted that football. Dean waited nervously in the doorway, keeping an eye on Sammy. He also did not want Sammy in trouble because of him, it wouldn't be worth it.

Sammy walked right up to Mom and looked her in the eye. "Dean not have football. My want Dean have football."

Mom frowned at Sammy. Oh, no, oh, no! Don't make her mad, Dean pleaded silently.

"Sammy, I said no more footballs because Dean left his outside and it was ruined," Mom told him. "If he can't take care of his things..."

"My do it," Sammy told her. Finally. "My weave it outside. Dean want go get it, but Mommy say no mow outside."

"Was..." Mom glanced over at Dean, forcing Dean to duck into the hallway. "Was Dean mad at you?"

"Nah," Sammy said. "Dean ne'er mad. But Mommy make Dean sad wif no mow footballs. My not like Dean sad." Dean peeked into the room. Sammy was making the big sad eyes at Mom, which always worked on him. Would it work on Mom? "Pwease, Mommy?"

Pop cleared his throat. He did something funny with his head. Mom looked around and Dean ducked back again.

"Sammy, did you really leave Dean's football outside?" Mom asked. "Or did Dean ask you to say that so he could get a new football?"

What! Dean poked his head back in the room. Did Mom really think he... She did, he realized. Dean turned and ran, straight for the closet in his room. He stopped in the hallway upstairs. Mom found him there last time, when he made her cry. No, no, no. He darted into the other room, Baby Mikey's room. Dean closed himself in the closet, burying himself under a bunch of blankets and things stacked on the floor.

They really thought he would blame his little brother for his screw-ups? Well, that was a screw-up. He should have known it was his fault. Dean never should have let Sammy play with his football in the first place. The tears came whether he wanted them to or not, so Dean shoved his face further into the blankets, trying to muffle any sound he might make.

"Dean?"

"Dean?"

"Dean!" The last one was Sammy. "Deeeeean!"

Part of him wanted to race to Sammy, to settle his little brother down, to take the panic our of his voice. The rest of him wanted to stay hidden, knowing they were all better off without him.

"My know! My know!" Sammy's voice was loud, so they were probably in the upstairs hall. "'mere, Mommy! 'mere!"

He heard pounding footsteps, then just one person moving around. When he heard his name being called softly, Dean knew it was Pop.

"Dean? Sammy told us he left the football outside," Pop said in the same soft voice. He said some more stuff too, but Dean couldn't make it out because Pop left Baby Mikey's room.

Dean was wondering how he could leave without being spotted, and where he would go, when he heard Sammy fussing.

"Come on, you dumb baby! Cry!"

Dean sat up alarmed, knocking the stuff off of him. What the hell was Sammy doing? He heard a clunking noise and then Baby Mikey crying.

"Dean! Baby Mikey need you!" Sammy shouted. Baby Mikey cried louder. "Dean! Baby Mikey cry!"

Mom and Pop were out there, they would take care of the baby, Dean told himself. But the baby continued to cry.

"Dean!" Sammy sounded really mad now. Dean swallowed hard. "Dean! My make Baby Mikey cry bad! Dean come make better now!" He heard the clunking noise again and Baby Mikey let out a loud, mad wail. When Baby Mikey sounded like that, it was so hard to calm him down. Why was Sammy doing this?

Drawn by the anguished baby wails, Dean slowly stood up, blankets and stuff falling off of him. He cautiously pushed open the closet door. With a deep breath, he peeked out. So far so good, the coast was clear. Dean could not imagine where Mom and Pop were while Sammy was out there making Baby Mikey so mad. They weren't asleep yet, they should have come running.

"Dean!" Sammy shouted, plowing into him. When Sammy pulled away, he had a stern face. "Now MY Dean make dat baby quiet." He pointed at the crib in the hall.

"Why is Baby Mikey out here?" Dean demanded as he lowered the side. He reached in to touch the baby. Baby Mikey squalled louder. With a sigh, Dean turned him gently over to rub wide circles over his back, the only thing which seemed to calm him down when he was this upset. Plus with his face not pointing directly up, Baby Mikey wasn't as loud.

"My want find Dean," Sammy said, stamping his foot. He shook a chubby finger at Dean. "My Dean not hide! My want know why Dean hide from Sammy." Sammy grabbed Dean's shirt with both hands. "My Dean," he said and tears fell down his round cheeks. "My Dean not hide. Scare Sammy."

Baby Mikey was starting to settle down. Dean used his free hand to hug Sammy to his side. "Sorry, Sammy," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Both of Sammy's arms wrapped around his waist and held on tight. Even after Baby Mikey fell asleep, Sammy kept hugging him. Dean turned all of his attention on his little brother. He knelt down so he could hug Sammy back. "Sorry Sammy," he whispered again. "I promise, I won't leave you. Ever. I promise." Not like Dad, he thought to himself. Dean promised himself he would never be like Dad.

Sammy nodded, his curly hair brushing Dean's cheek. They heard the front door open and close.

"I got it!" Pop shouted. "Come on, Kate!"

Dean stiffened as Mom's and Pop's footsteps headed up the stairs, but Sammy held on tight. Pop was smiling at them when he walked up.

"Got Mikey to quiet down, I see," Pop said. He held a white plastic bag. "I have special surprises here. One for each of you." Mom was right behind him and her eyes were kind of red and puffy. Great. Baby Mikey and Mom were both crying? Now Dean felt even worse, and he hadn't thought it would be possible.

Pop reached into his white bag to take out the smallest football Dean had ever seen. "This one is for Mikey," he said.

"Baby Mikey," Sammy corrected, without letting go of Dean.

Pop chuckled, winking at Sammy. "Baby Mikey." He set it carefully inside the crib. "Want to put that side up, Dean?" he asked as he reached into the bag again.

Dean released Sammy to carefully raise the side of Baby Mikey's crib.

"This one," Pop said, holding up a blue football, "is for Sammy. Sammy," he said, holding it out for Sammy to take, "if you play outside by yourself, use this one. The rain won't ruin it."

"'kay, Pop," Sammy said, only releasing Dean with one hand to take it. Then Sammy crowded close again.

"And for Dean." Pop smiled big. He took a real football, a brown leather one, out of the bag. It even said NFL on it! Dean gasped and his eyes almost fell out of his head. Pop held it out for him. "I know you'll take good care of it."

Not willing to believe it, Dean looked from the ball to Pop several times.

"Are you going to make Daddy hold it all day, Dean?" Mom demanded. "You better go put it away."

Dean swallowed hard, not willing to disobey Mom. Besides, they might take the football away. He reached out a shaking hand to take the football. Wow. It was even better than his old one! An unbidden smile creased his face and Sammy hugged him tighter.

"My Dean happy!" he crowed. "'mere, Dean!" Sammy released him to tug on his hand. Staring down at the really cool football in his hand, Dean followed Sammy into their room.

"Where my football go, Dean?" Sammy demanded.

Dean picked a good spot on one of the lower shelves for Sammy's football. He removed his from the box before putting it up on the very top shelf, out of Sammy's reach.

"Play wif Sammy 'morrow, Dean?" Sammy asked. "Bof footballs?" Sammy hopped a little. "My ask George come play! Dean like dat?"

Actually, he would like to throw the football with someone who could catch and throw back, like George from next door. George never seemed to mind the fact he wouldn't talk, either. George talked enough for about four people anyway, Dean doubted he even noticed it was always a one-sided conversation. And if they used both balls, he could throw to Sammy in-between throws with George. Dean nodded.

Sammy nodded seriously, staring at Dean with hard eyes. "And Dean not hide from Sammy. Never."

"Never," Dean promised. "Never ever."

Sammy grinned at him.

"Here we go," Pop said in a hushed voice as he pushed the crib into their room. "Dean? Can you show me what you did to settle Mikey down?"

Dean glanced cautiously up at Pop's face, wondering what the man was up to now.

"When Mike- uh, Baby Mikey is that upset, I never can calm him down. How'd you do it?" Pop asked. Mom leaned over the end of the crib, watching Dean curiously.

"Dean show you," Sammy promised. He shoved Dean in the side. "Go, Dean. Do it."

Dean kept his eyes averted from Mom and Pop as he lowered the side of Baby Mikey's crib. He reached in to rub wide, comforting circles on the baby's back. Even in his sleep, Baby Mikey let out a relaxed baby sigh. Dean smiled down at his new baby brother. What a sweet baby. Sammy had been a sweet baby too, and just as fussy as Baby Mikey after coming to live with Mom and Pop, but still sweet.

"Does it work every time?" Mom asked.

Dean nodded without looking up. He pulled his hand slowly away. Sammy's round little face beamed at him as Pop put the side of the crib up.

"You boys play," Pop said. "We'll call you when dinner is ready."

"'kay, Pop!" Sammy sang out. Dean shot Sammy a glare for being so loud with Baby Mikey sleeping. Sammy frowned, but he said in a loud whisper, "'kay, Pop."

Dean nodded his approval at Sammy. Sammy rolled his eyes. When the sound of Mom and Pop going downstairs finished, Sammy turned to Dean with both hands on his hips.

"Dean show Sammy new hiding place. Now. Or my wake up Baby Mikey," Sammy threatened.

Dean sighed, leading Sammy back into the bedroom he hated. This really was a creepy room, and not just because Mom and Pop locked him in here once. There were strange noises, creaky noises, scary noises. Dean opened the closet door to reveal the mess he left in there. Crap. He should clean it up. Dean dropped to his knees to fold the fallen blankets and stack them back up.

"Dean hided under dat?" Sammy demanded. He looked around. "Dean not like dis room. Why hide here?"

He sighed as he stacked up some of the blankets. "I knew you wouldn't look for me in the creepy room," he admitted.

Then he felt Sammy's little hand on his back, rubbing in the same kind of circles Dean used for Baby Mikey. "My love Dean," Sammy said softly. "My Dean not go. My not let Dean go. My love Dean."

Dean finished stacking the stuff in the closet. It wasn't as nice and neat as before, but Dean thought he did a pretty good job. He felt better knowing Sammy would stick up for him, make Mom and Pop let him stay. Dean would just have to make sure they didn't make Mom or Pop mad, that's all. He could do that. He could.

"Want to play with the crash cars?" Dean offered, knowing it was Sammy's favorite.

Sammy's face lit up. "My get it!" He ran out of the creepy room.

The crash cars set was in the top of their closet. Oh, crap! Dean ran after his little brother before Sammy climbed up and hurt himself. Or woke up Baby Mikey.

* * *

Mike brought out the receiver for the baby monitor, grinning like a mad-man.

"Now what?" Kate demanded. She still wasn't over the fact she had been hoodwinked by a two year old and a six year old had bested her parenting skills. Again.

Mike shook it at her. "I turned the transmitter back on while we were looking for Dean. Little rascal must have figured out what we were up to." He grinned. "But now we're gonna hear him talk." Mike thumbed the wheel to turn it on and the volume up.

"My help," Sammy's voice insisted through crackling static.

"Here," Dean replied. Kate watched Mike's whole frame tense at the sound of Dean's voice. "Put that part together."

Mike's fist pumped up in the air. "More than two words!" he hissed softly.

Kate couldn't help but laugh at him. The boys were quiet while they put whatever-it-was together. Kate tried not to worry about the mess they had to be making. Boys will be boys, Mike kept telling her. Well, he wasn't the one picking up after them, either.

"Ready," Dean said. "Pick your car, Sammy."

They heard Sammy's laughter with each car crash. Kate smiled at Mike, enjoying the sounds of the boys having a good time. Mike smiled back, turning on the television with the volume off to watch the game.

"We're gonna hear a lot more," Mike promised her. He knew how much Dean's silence bothered her. "We will, Kate."

She nodded, staring hopefully at the monitor. The sounds of the racetrack stopped.

"What's that?" Dean asked, sounding very alarmed.

"Justa light, Dean," Sammy said and Kate winced. "Dean not worry."

"Damn it," Dean muttered. Kate shot her husband a strong look. She had been warning him about using profanity in front of the boys. Then the monitor went dead.

"Damn it," Mike echoed. "I'll have to see if I can find one without a light on it."

"He's on to you," she said slowly. "And as paranoid as Dean is, I'll bet he looks for a baby monitor before speaking again."

She heard heavy stomps down the stairs. It had to be Sammy, Dean was always so quiet. The two year old barreled into the room, face red and glaring at them venomously. He held the transmitter in one hand. Sammy threw it on the floor where it burst open, pieces of plastic scattering across the floor.

"Not funny!" Sammy shouted angrily before turning around to stomp back upstairs.

"Or not," Mike said slowly, watching Sammy leave with wide eyes.

"I'd go with not," Kate agreed, thinking another baby monitor in the boys' room would be a bad idea even though hearing Dean's voice had been nice. They would just have to work on him more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Dean liked the new therapist a lot more than the old one. The old one kept making him feel guilty, trying to make him think he hurt Mom's and Pop's and Sammy's feelings, everybody's feelings, just because he didn't feel like talking. He used to talk to Daddy, and Daddy left. Talking did not make people feel better, sometimes it made them go away. Adults, talking made adults go away.

The therapist pushed over some paper and markers for Dean. He had a nice, soft voice and smiled a lot. He even liked to sit in floor on the other side of the table.

"Dean, today we're going to draw some pictures. Okay? Your mom tells me how much you like to draw," he said, still smiling.

Dean just looked at him. He pushed the paper closer.

"But today I don't want anything with a smiley face," he said. "I'd like you to draw a sad picture."

Dean watched him curiously. Who the hell wanted a sad picture? That was stupid. Slowly, Dean shook his head. The therapist's smile widened.

"Even if I promise not to show your parents?" he asked.

Dean's eyes jumped to the man's face.

"That bothers you, doesn't it? If your parents see a sad picture?" He leaned on the table, his chin resting in his hands. "I don't have to show them, Dean. But they already know you're sad. And that something is scaring you. I'd like to know what's scaring you. Sometimes, if you show someone what makes you afraid, it isn't as scary." The therapist nodded at the paper. "It's okay. You won't hurt anyone's feelings."

Dean stared down at the paper and markers, considering it, especially if it was true about Mom and Pop not seeing it. There were only two or three things that really scared him. Which one should he draw?

Taking a deep breath, Dean picked up the red marker. At least this scary thing wouldn't hurt anyone's feelings if the doctor was lying to him, because it wasn't about them. He colored red halfway up the page. Then Dean opened the yellow marker and put yellow on top of the red. Finally, on top of the red and yellow, he drew himself and Sammy. As an afterthought, Dean added Baby Mikey. He shoved his finished picture at the therapist.

The man took it and looked at it thoughtfully. "Fire." He nodded seriously at Dean. "Fire scares me too." He pointed at the people Dean drew. "Is this you?" he asked. Dean nodded once. "So I take it the other kids are your brothers, Sammy and Mikey?" Dean nodded once again.

The therapist sighed heavily as he looked at Dean. "You're supposed to be scared of fire," he said, much to Dean's surprise. "Sammy told your parents that you have bad dreams." He held up Dean's picture. "Is this what your bad dreams are about?"

Dean looked at the table for a long time before he shrugged. Only some of his dreams were about fire. Most of them were about Bad Things coming out of the dark to get him and Sammy and now Baby Mikey.

"You remember your house burning, don't you Dean?" he asked in a gentle voice.

Tears welled up in Dean's eyes. He did not want to think about that. He wouldn't. Angrily he wiped his face.

"It's okay to cry, Dean," the therapist said softly. "Crying is a perfectly normal, natural..."

Dean did not hear any more, because he ran out of the room into the waiting room, where Pop was supposed to be. But the waiting room was empty. It was empty! They left? They left him here? Alone?

All the air rushed out of the room. He heard his name being called, but it was from far, far away. He looked around desperately for Pop. Maybe he and Sammy were playing hide and seek, but it was a small room. Dean should be able to see at least one of them! He gasped desperately, but the air refused to go into his lungs.

A hand rubbed his back, but it wasn't anyone in his family. Dean heard a painful cry come from his mouth as he curled up, trying to protect himself. He heard a door.

"What the hell is this?" Pop's voice filled the whole room.

Dean's head snapped up. Pop was still here? He didn't leave? Pop's huge form stood over him, and his strong arms reached down and picked Dean up like he was Baby Mikey. Dean hid his face against Pop's shoulder, unbelievably relieved Pop came back for him. Having a Pop was not like having a Dad, Dean decided. A Pop was much, much better.

"Dean?" Sammy's voice cut through the room. "What happen my Dean?"

"What did you do?" Pop demanded.

"Mister Peavy," the therapist said, "I think Dean's made a breakthrough. It frightened him, which isn't unusual, but I feel we are making some real progress."

"Progress?" Pop snapped. "You call this progress? I've never seen him like this! You just wait until my wife gets a hold of you! She's gonna have your license revoked!" The whole time Pop was yelling, Sammy kept calling out wanting to know if he was okay.

Pop slammed the door on their way out, still holding Dean. He carried Dean all the way to the car. Dean expected Pop to let go after unlocking the car, but Pop told Sammy to get in. Still holding Dean, Pop sat in the back seat. Pop rubbed Dean's back until he could breathe again. He felt Sammy's little hand stroking his hair.

"My Dean okay?" Sammy demanded, again and again.

"He's okay," Pop answered each time. "Dean just needs to calm down a little."

When Dean was finally able to pull his face away from Pop's shoulder, Pop smiled at him. "Feeling better?" he asked. "You do know your mom is going to go ballistic when she finds out that bastard made you cry?"

Dean shrugged.

"Let's go home and toss the ball around a little?" Pop suggested.

"Yay!" Sammy crowed, clapping his hands.

Pop smiled at both of them as he buckled Sammy up. Then Pop buckled Dean in too and ran his hand over Dean's head before closing the back door. The drive home was full of Pop and Sammy talking about football.

"Dean play good," Sammy insisted as they pulled into the driveway. "Dean play t.v. one day."

Pop chuckled as he parked the car. "Well, you never know, Sammy." Pop turned around to smile at them. "He might."

Dean's cheeks burned with embarrassment as his head dropped. He hated when people talked about him. When he and Sammy were both out of the car, Pop swept his arm toward the house. "Go get your balls, boys! I'll meet you in the backyard."

Sammy screamed with excitement as he ran for the front door. Dean followed closely, not wanting Sammy out of his sight.

* * *

Mike did his level best not to stamp his feet as he entered the house. Kate was in the floor with Baby Mikey, cooing gently at him. She rolled over at his approach.

"Did I hear something about playing ball?" Kate asked, the smile falling slowly from her face. "What happened?"

Mike held up one hand, silencing her until the boys raced through the house and the backdoor slammed. He glared down at his wife.

"I had to take Sammy to the bathroom while Dean was in his session. By the time we came back, Dean was curled up in a little ball in the middle of the waiting room, sobbing hysterically." He ground his teeth together.

"What the hell did that bastard do?" Kate demanded, her eyes flaring.

"I have no god-damned idea," Mike snapped. "I just got him the hell out of there."

She glared at him for a long moment. "Good," his wife stated in a voice quivering with strong emotion. "I'll take care of the quack."

"I'll keep the boys outside until you say," Mike told her.

"Thanks." Kate jerked her head at the back door.

Mike headed outside. The boys were already playing with Sammy's ball. It more more a game of fetch than catch, but Sammy was laughing and Dean was not crying. While he watched, Sammy hit himself in the face with the ball and fell over backwards. Dean smiled.

Sammy's head lifted with a brilliant smile. "Dean all better?"

Dean waved at Sammy. "Throw!" he called out.

Sammy jumped up. "Pop," he shouted. "Pop come play."

"What happened to calling me Dad?" Mike demanded as he approached them.

"Dean like Pop," Sammy said. "Pop throw Dean first."

Mike stared at Sammy a moment before looking at Dean. "You like Pop better than Dad, Dean?" he asked. Dean's head dropped, an all too familiar sight. Dean nodded at the ground.

Mike snatched Dean's ball from the ground. "Go for a long one," he barked.

Dean's head snapped up as he ran to the back fence. Mike waited for Dean to turn around before throwing the ball. It bounced out of his hands, but at least Dean was under it. As the boy scrambled to recover the ball, Mike tossed Sammy's blue ball in the other direction. He split his attention between the two boys until Kate called them.

"Boys! Come watch the baby!" she shouted. "I have to run an errand!"

"You heard Mom," Mike shouted, waving them into the house. "Let's go!"

Dean scooped up his ball as he ran while Sammy ignored his blue one. Mike had to send the younger boy back for it. He definitely believed Sammy was the one to ruin Dean's old ball.

* * *

Kate felt the steam boiling from her ears as she pulled up in front of Dean's therapist's office. He had better have a damned good explanation or an alternate career choice after what happened to Dean. The quack was standing in his waiting room when she arrived.

"Missus Peavy, this way, please." Doctor Krieg brought her into his office. He sat down behind a large desk, as if it were his seat of power. Bastard better rethink that too, Kate thought viciously as she took a seat in a guest chair. He held out a drawing. "Dean drew this today. I asked him to show me what scared him."

Kate eyed him suspiciously as she snatched the paper out of his hands. It was all red and yellow, with three stick figures in the center. She recognized two of them as the way Dean usually drew himself and Sammy. The third one was a small lump, but she had a pretty good idea who it was supposed to be.

"I'm surprised there aren't happy faces all over it," she said critically. "That's all he seems to draw lately."

"I told Dean I wanted a sad picture, that I wanted to see what scared him." He chuckled lightly. "I even had to promise I wouldn't show the sad picture to you before he would draw it." His features hardened. "Dean seems terrified of upsetting you or your husband. Is there a reason for that?"

Kate slammed the paper down on his desk as she jumped to her feet. "You bastard!" she hissed. "Are you accusing me of abusing my son?"

Doctor Krieg leaned back in his chair, regarding her coolly. "Your adopted son," he pointed out. "One with some severe psychological issues. He was there the night his mother died in a housefire, wasn't he?" He tapped a finger on Dean's picture. "I was trying to explain to him it was all right to feel scared, and sad, when Dean bolted out into the waiting room. Would you like to know what happened next?"

The therapist's voice had taken on a severe tone Kate felt herself forced to listen to. She nodded.

"When he ran into the waiting room, your husband and younger son were not there. Dean panicked. I doubt I've ever seen such a severe panic attack in a six year old before." Doctor Krieg frowned. "I tried to calm him down, but he seemed oblivious to his surroundings until your husband returned." He stood to face her. "In my professional opinion, Dean is acting the way he does because he's afraid of losing his family. Again."

Kate glared. "Quack." She crumbled Dean's drawing and tossed it in the trash. He wouldn't want it anyway, not after the way he threw away the last one. "Dean won't be back." She turned to leave.

"There are only so many child psychologists in this town," he said. "At this rate, you're going to run out in a month."

Kate paused at the door, torn between her anger and practicality.

"Breakthroughs aren't pretty," Doctor Krieg said. "Dean admitted today he is afraid of fire. He ran away when I asked him about his house burning, which was the night his mother died." A throat cleared from behind her. "Dean associates fires with losing people he loves, and after only talking about fire he ran out and couldn't find his adoptive father. It wouldn't surprise me if he shut down even more now."

Kate spun back around. "Why? Because Sammy had to use the bathroom?" she demanded. "You're saying this is Mike's fault?"

Doctor Krieg sighed heavily. "No, Missus Peavy. What I am trying to say is if you don't bring him back and let me talk to him about it, to help him understand his own feelings, it'll get worse. I hope you don't have a fireplace or outdoor grill. You won't be able to use them with Dean around until he is able to face his fear of losing people he loves."

Things had seemed so clear and simple before she came in here. This bastard made Dean cry and Kate had wanted to hurt to him for it. She had even been considering what it would take to get his license to practice revoked. Now she was considering bringing Dean back. Damn it!

"One more session," she said slowly. "And I will be in the room with him."

"I'm sorry..." he began, shaking his head at her.

"This isn't up for discussion," Kate snapped. "I'm informing you that I will be here. If it goes all right, he can come back." She shrugged. "I thought Dean took a liking to you anyway," she admitted grudgingly.

Doctor Krieg smiled. "The feeling is mutual. Can you come in tomorrow? I'd hate to leave this hanging for long."

"It'll have to be either first thing in the morning or your last appointment for the day. Mike can't take off in the middle of the work day two days in a row," she told him.

"First thing," he promised. "How about before my first appointment? Eight o'clock? We'll be done before nine."

"Fine." Kate felt like she was giving in, like he had won and she lost. As long as Dean benefited, Kate supposed it would be all right. Oh, holy crap, what was Mike going to say?

* * *

Mike huffed angrily as they headed into Dean's possibly-soon-to-be-ex-therapist's office. Kate understood how upset he was, she wasn't too happy about this either. Dean hung back behind her, tears threatening in his eyes and a trapped look on his face. Several times she very nearly turned around to return home, but Kate kept telling herself it was for his own good. She hoped. If not, that quack would be losing his license, Kate promised herself.

Even at six, Kate could still pick Dean up, and she had to in order to take him inside Doctor Krieg's office. His breathing was rapid and his eyes wide with fear. Kate whispered reassurances in his ear as she carried him inside Doctor Krieg's inner office. She sat in the same guest chair as yesterday, but with Dean in her lap this time. His whole body was stiff as a board.

"Hey, Dean." Doctor Krieg sat in the floor beside Kate, on the side Dean was facing. He turned his head into her shoulder and Kate realized that this was probably the closest they had ever been, physically. Dean wasn't much of a hugger, unlike Sammy.

"I'm really glad to see you," the therapist continued as Dean started to shudder. "I'm sorry you were so upset yesterday. I'd really like to talk about it."

Dean shook his head violently.

"It's all right," Doctor Krieg said. "Your mom knows we have to talk about what's scaring you, and that it's a sad thing. She said it's okay. Didn't you, Mom?"

"Uh, y-yeah," Kate stuttered. She rubbed a hand awkwardly over Dean's back. "It's okay to talk about sad things, Dean." He shook his head again. Kate rolled her eyes. How could a kid who wouldn't talk be so damned stubborn? Then again, he'd have to be unbelievably stubborn not to talk for the past two years. She'd have to discuss that one with Mike later.

"Dean, sad things happen to everyone," Kate told him. "And I'd be surprised if you weren't afraid of fire."

His face turned into her shoulder again and his shoulders shook. Kate glared at Doctor Krieg, wanting him to fix this. Now.

"Fire takes things away, doesn't it?" Doctor Krieg said in a soft voice. "But you know what? Drawing pictures of fire doesn't. When you ran out yesterday and couldn't find your dad-"

"Pop," Kate interrupted. Doctor Krieg gave her a funny look. "He calls my husband Pop," she explained.

"Oh." The doctor nodded. "When you couldn't find your pop," he picked back up as if she hadn't interrupted, "you thought just talking about fire made him go away, didn't you?" Doctor Krieg waited, but Dean did not react. "Didn't you, Dean?"

Dean took a deep breath before giving a small nod.

"I thought so," the therapist said. "Dean, I can't make any promises because you know better than anyone that bad things can happen, but I don't think your parents are going anywhere. You can talk, not talk, draw sad or happy pictures, help look after your brothers or ignore them, I don't think it's going to make a difference." Dean's head lifted a little to look at the doctor, much to Kate's surprise. "I'm pretty sure you're still stuck with your family." Dean's head rested against her shoulder and his body relaxed against her. Oh, surely not! That couldn't be what Dean was worried about! How absurd. As if they would abandon him the way that ass John... Crap. She should've thought of that. Why didn't kids come with an instruction manual?

Doctor Krieg smiled up at Kate. "I do have a suggestion. Have you considered enrolling Dean in a martial arts program? Not only is it excellent exercise, but the programs are designed to help to build self-confidence and self-esteem."

Kate frowned. They really couldn't afford another expense right now. "I'll discuss it with Dean's father," she said evasively.

"Will you be back?" Doctor Krieg asked. He held up his watch. "It's only eight-thirty. Dean can color some more if he wants."

Kate leaned back to see Dean's face. "Want to color for the doctor?" she asked.

Dean's gaze dropped as he shook his head, but his body was not shuddering and he felt more relaxed. "Well, maybe next time. Hey, I have an idea. Would you like to invite Sammy in to meet the doctor?"

Now Dean sat up with an almost smile.

"Go get him," Kate told him. Dean hopped down and raced across the room to open the door.

"Dean!" Sammy shouted. Dean waved him in. Sammy plowed into his big brother. "Dean okay?" Sammy demanded. "Dean not scared?"

Dean took Sammy's hand to lead him up to Doctor Krieg. Doctor Krieg sat cross-legged in the floor and grinned at Sammy.

"Is this the famous Sammy?" he asked. "Dean's favorite brother?"

Sammy beamed. "Dat me." Then the smile fell from his face. He hit Doctor Krieg right in the face with his little fist.

"Sammy!" Kate gasped, swinging the pudgy toddler into her lap. "Why did you hit Dean's doctor? That was not nice!"

"Bad man," Sammy said angrily. "Make my Dean cry! My hit 'gain," he insisted, leaning over Kate's arm to take another swing.

Kate was so busy wrestling Sammy under control, she very nearly missed Dean's chuckle. She glanced over, her curiosity getting the best of her, to see Dean grinning and laughing lightly at his little brother's antics. Kate glanced quickly between the two boys, the words of the social worker about them being the closest siblings he had met echoing in her head.

"Dean!" Kate snapped. He stopped laughing instantly, his body stiffening. "Take Sammy out to see Pop. I want to talk to your therapist for a minute."

Dean hurried to carry out her request. Kate waited until after he had hustled Sammy out to the waiting area before turning to Doctor Krieg, who still sat on the floor beside her.

"Sammy's quite the handful, isn't he?" Doctor Krieg chuckled as he stood, brushing off his pants.

"You have no idea," Kate muttered. "What do you think about trying to separate Dean and Sam?" she asked. Whether or not Dean returned depended completely on his answer.

"They share a room?" Doctor Krieg asked. He shook his head, staring at the door. "No, I wouldn't try to separate those two. Just from his drawings I can see how devoted Dean is to his little brother, and now the baby. I had no idea until thirty seconds ago that it was reciprocated to such a degree." He turned to face Kate. "Honestly, I'd be afraid of what they might do if you tried to separate them, especially at night. That's when kids' fears tend to be the most intense."

"No kidding."

"Excuse me?" Doctor Krieg asked, looking at her curiously.

"Nothing." Kate stood to leave. "I'll let Dean come back. But if you if think he might be making another breakthrough, you are to call one of us in." Kate paused at the door. "Even if it's Sammy." She did not turn around to see his reaction. Kate did not need anyone else to tell her what a lousy parent she was. She knew. What business did she and Mike have having a baby? They couldn't even take care of the two kids they already had. What had they been thinking?


	6. Chapter 6

These two chapters really went together, so I decided to post two at once this time.

**Chapter 6**

**Two Years Later: Dean 8, Sammy 4, Mikey 2**

Mike sat watching Dean's karate class. Self-esteem building his ass, but Dean did seem to enjoy it so Mike kept paying for it and ferrying his oldest to class three damn days a week. Today he didn't even have to deal with Sammy or Mikey, so he could watch Dean in class.

The kid had some moves, Mike had to admit. The instructors called him a natural, but Mike had figured that was just to talk him into private lessons and milk him for more money. Now he was having second thoughts. Dean was much better than most of his class, all of whom looked older.

During class, Dean never dropped his gaze once. Except for the fact he did not speak to anyone during their water breaks, he looked and acted like a normal kid. Any time one of the instructors praised a kick or punch or whatever, Dean's only reaction was to nod seriously. But every once in a while he would glance over at Mike and a tiny grin would light his face. That alone made it worth coming.

Today after class one of the instructors approached him again. Mike expected the usual private lessons spiel, but they asked about Dean joining the competition team. Oh, crap. It meant more lessons, some one-on-one required instruction, and travel to tournaments. He promised to discuss it with his wife before they left.

In the car, Mike glanced over at his oldest. "So," he asked in what he hoped was a conversational tone, "do you want to compete?"

Dean shrugged.

Mike sighed. "Would you like to discuss it with the therapist first?"

Dean shook his head.

"How about Sammy?" Mike suggested. "You could talk to Sammy first."

Dean nodded as he looked out the window. "Okay, Pop."

Mike allowed himself to relax as he drove home. "You really did look good in class today, Dean. Pretty damned impressive."

He could hear Dean squirming in his seat. The boy just didn't know how to take a compliment. Well, Mike supposed there was nothing wrong with being modest.

"If you don't want to compete, that's fine," Mike informed him. "We're not going to make you, but some private lessons might be a good idea." He glanced over. "Assuming you want to keep going."

Dean shrugged again. "Dunno."

Mike sucked in the sigh threatening to escape. "Why?" he asked, forcing himself to remain calm. "Were you wanting to try something else?"

"Maybe," Dean replied.

Frowning, Mike glanced over again. "Like what? Another sport?" His hopes flared briefly. "Football?"

"Same sport," Dean replied., still not looking at him.

"Then what?" Mike demanded. "Please don't make me play twenty questions. It's been a long day, Dean."

Dean shrugged again. "Judo."

"Oh." Mike thought it over. "It's not the same thing?"

"Nope."

"No, sir," Mike corrected.

"No, sir," Dean parroted instantly.

"Is there a Judo place around here?" he asked. "Will we have to drive farther?"

Dean chuckled. "Next door, Pop."

"To the karate place?" Mike asked, glancing over in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes, sir." Dean chuckled again.

Mike shoved him lightly in the shoulder. "Smart-ass," he said affectionately. Dean really was a piece of work. "I'll talk to Mom."

* * *

Dean bounded out of the car, excited to tell Sammy all about his conversation with Pop. He checked the front rooms first before running upstairs.

"Dean!" Sammy shouted when he burst into their room. "How was class?"

Mikey ran up to Dean with his arms outstretched. Dean scooped up the butterball and dropped him on the bed before answering Sammy.

"Great. They think I'm good enough to join the competition team," Dean explained. "But I don't want to, so I asked Pop to let me take Judo instead."

"What's Judo?" Sammy asked, crawling up on the bed next to Mikey. He shoved Mikey over, out of the way. Dean grabbed the toddler before he could fall off the bed.

"It's like karate, but different moves and stuff. I'd like to see how different it is," Dean told his brother.

"How was school?" Sammy demanded.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fi-iii-ine."

Sammy frowned at him while Mikey kicked him in the stomach, wanting attention. Dean poked the chubby little kid in the stomach, making him squeal. Dean tried to focus on making Mikey laugh, so he wouldn't have to tell Sammy the thing his little brother obviously already knew about.

Sammy's arms crossed over his chest as he glared at Dean. "George came over."

Dean shrugged, continuing to tickle Mikey.

"He said," Sammy said, his voice rising, "some kids were picking on you after school."

Dean rolled his eyes again. "No big deal, Sammy."

Sammy shoved Dean's tickling hands away from Mikey. "It is too! What happened, Dean?"

Dean shrugged as he looked at his younger brother. "Nothin', Sammy. The teachers broke it up."

"If it was nothin'," Sammy pressed, "why did the teachers need to break it up?"

Dean groaned, turning his back on Sammy. "I need to change." When he glanced back over his shoulder, Dean saw Sammy and Mikey sitting side-by-side with their arms crossed over their chests. Sammy had his stubborn face on and Mikey kept looking over at Sammy and checking that his pose matched.

"Dean talk," Mikey instructed with a nod. "Dean have problem."

Dean turned his back again to finish changing into regular clothes. Where was Mom calling them down to dinner when he needed her?

"I don't have a problem," Dean insisted. "Some jerks just think it's funny to pick on me, that's all. It doesn't bother me."

Sammy stared at him. "It doesn't bother you?" he demanded. "Then why'd you hit one of 'em?"

"You know," Dean said slowly, "you sound a lot older than four."

Sammy glared. "Dean!" Sammy jumped up to stand on the bed, so his head was even with Dean's. "George said you started the fight! Why?"

Dean shrugged. "Doesn't matter." He turned his back on his little brother to snatch his football off the shelf. "If the teachers hadn't shown up, I would've ended it too."

"Dean fight?" Mikey asked, following along closely.

"Shut up, Mikey!" Sammy snapped.

Dean spun around on his little brother. He shoved Sammy with one hand. "Don't talk to Mikey like that," he ordered sternly. "He's a little kid." He headed outside, confident at least one of his little brothers would want to play with him outside.

When he turned around at the back door, only Mikey was behind him. "Let's go," Dean told him, holding the door open. He wished he knew where the smaller footballs were, until he spotted one lying out in the yard. Dean set his football down by the door before he ran across the grass to snatch a tiny football, just perfect for Mikey's little hand.

"Come on," he called out, motioning for Mikey to come out in the yard. The kid was built like a tank and Dean chuckled at the image of the butterball rushing towards him. Dean got down on his knees to toss the ball gently to Mikey, who even managed to catch a few.

"Dean!" Pop thundered from the back door. "Come in here!"

He figured Sammy had ratted him out about the fight so Dean ignored Pop, tossing the ball at Mikey's open arms again.

"Dean!" Mom's shrill voice sliced through him. Dean shuddered and winced. "Inside! Now!"

Damn it. Dean stood up, taking his time to brush grass from his jeans.

"Dean?" Mikey asked. "Dean pay later?"

"Dean pay now," Dean muttered. He tousled Mikey's hair. "C'mon kid," he said lightly. "We can play more later."

"Dean!" Mom shouted again, her voice sharp and piercing. He sighed as he herded Mikey towards the house. Pop met them halfway to carry Mikey in. Dean dropped his head so he wouldn't have to see their disappointment. Yeah, he knew he had screwed up right after it happened. At the time, he hadn't even thought twice about laying into the jackass. But now...

Damn it.

Dean sat at the dining table, where Mom and Pop always handed down punishments. He wondered what they would come up with. Maybe it would be no tv? Or no playing outside?

"Dean," Mom began, her voice slow and patient, so he must be in a LOT of trouble. "George came over while you were in class. He told us what happened after school today."

Dean stared at the woodgrain of the table. No way was he going to participate in this conversation and get into more trouble.

"How those boys were picking on you, but you ignored them," Mom went on. "Until you decided it was time to attack one of them. Dean. Why would you do that?"

Dean kept his eyes fixed on a certain swirl in the table. It was his favorite swirl since it had helped him through more than one 'conversation' at the table.

"Pop tells me you'd rather switch to Judo than join the competition team," Mom said slowly. "Your punishment will be to join the team." She stood up from the table as an icepick of fear sunk slowly into his heart. "If you do well, we'll consider allowing you to take Judo too." Mom cleared her throat as she stood. "There's also Tae-kwon-do, so keep it in mind as well."

Furious he was going to be forced to compete, where perfect strangers would watch and judge him, Dean headed upstairs intentionally stomping his feet on each step. Sammy stood in the hall, hands on his hips, looking so damned smug. He would be willing to bet Sammy told Mom who called George to get all the details. Dean eyed the door to the guest room. If he busted his hand he wouldn't be able to compete, and he was just mad enough at Sammy to try it.

Setting jaw in determination, Dean turned to face the guest room door. With a nasty glare at Sammy, he pulled his fist back. Dean took a deep breath as he focused all of his energy on his hand going through the door.

"Dean?" Sammy asked. "What're you doing? Dean!"

Before Sammy could alert Mom and Pop, Dean let his hand fly. It slammed into the door with a satisfying crunch. Much to his surprise, Dean found the door crumpling away beneath his blow. His hand throbbed painfully, but it was on the other side of the door. Dean withdrew it slowly.

As he cradled his hand against his chest, Dean glared at Sammy again. "Tattletale," he hissed before turning his back on his little brother.

Dean walked slowly downstairs to the kitchen. Using his good hand, he filled a bowl with ice. Then he added water, like he saw in a movie once. Dean stuck his hand in the bowl with a gasp of relief.

"Mommy!" Sammy screamed from upstairs. Normally Dean came running when Sammy sounded like that, but not this time. This time he knew exactly why his little brother sounded this way.

"Mommy!"

He heard Mom rushing up the stairs. "Deeeeean!" she screamed. Dean stayed right where he was. Now he heard Mom running down the stairs. She and Sammy actually ran right by him once.

"Dean!" Mom sounded breathless when she ran up to him. She pulled his hand out of the ice, making him wince.

"See?" Sammy demanded. "I told you!"

"Mike!" Mom shouted, racing around the kitchen. "Mike!" She got a big plastic bag, the kind she kept leftovers in. Mom motioned for Dean to raise his hand. "Mike!" Mom poured his icewater into the plastic bag.

"Stick your hand in there, honey," Mom said, holding it out.

"Mike!" Mom screamed.

"What the hell is it now?" Pop demanded, walking slowly into the kitchen. "I thought you were going to let me take a nap?"

"Dean punched a hole in the door," Mom said, sounding kind of breathless. "Do you want to stay here with the boys or take him to the ER for x-rays?"

X-rays? Dean perked up a little. That sounded pretty cool.

"What?" Pop asked. "What door?"

"Upstairs," Mom told him. "Which is it? Stay or go?"

Pop looked a little more awake now. "Uh, okay, I'll take him. Let me get my keys."

"I'm going," Sammy stated, his hands on his hips.

Dean glared at his little brother. "You're staying," he snapped.

"Uh, Sammy?" Mom pushed him out of the room. "Go check on Mikey for me. Make sure he's not destroying your room."

"B-b-but," Sammy stuttered.

"Go!" Mom snapped and Dean couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude to her for it.

She rushed back to him. "Now, Dean," Mom said, "I know the doctors up at the hospital are strangers, but I want you to answer all of their questions, okay?"

Dean nodded at her.

"You might have to actually speak," Mom said. "But Pop will be there with you, and he won't leave without you, all right? We'll all still be here when you come back."

Dean stared at her for a moment. What was she talking about?

"As a matter of fact, I'm sure Pop will stay with you the whole time, if you want him to," Mom babbled on. "You don't have to be alone with strangers. Just let Pop know, okay? Do you think you can tell Pop if you don't want to be left alone?"

Yeah, okay, this seemed like a great idea upstairs, but now Mom was really rattled about him going in for a freaking x-ray. How serious was this?

"Let's go, Dean," Pop said softly from behind him, but it was unexpected so Dean still jumped. "I'll help you carry your ice bag."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Mike grunted over the clipboard he was using. "Seriously," he muttered, "what's with all the freaking paperwork?"

He glanced to his side where Dean sat stiffly, eyes downcast, closed in on himself. Mike patted the boy's thigh briefly before returning to the paperwork. As he worked on filling in all the blanks, and this was normally his wife's job, Mike noticed Dean scoot closer to him. He glanced around the ER waiting area. It was starting to fill with people. Oh, great. He really hoped they called Dean's name soon.

Mike flipped the page over. Finally. He was done. He took out their insurance card, glancing over at Dean. "Son, I have to turn this in at the desk. Back in a sec."

Dean only nodded, but at least he responded. Mike forced himself to walk slowly over to the ER admissions desk, as if he weren't worried. He turned in Dean's paperwork and waited while they made a copy of the insurance card. Then he returned to sit beside The Quiet Son. Sammy and Mikey would never make it into that category. It was physically impossible.

They called Dean's name and Mike led him into the initial examination room. The nurse asked a lot of questions, all of which Dean either nodded or shook his head to, looking to Mike when anything more than a 'yes' or 'no' was required. She determined an x-ray would be necessary before leading them back into the formal ER exam rooms. The last time Mike had been in one of these was when Sammy stuck a rock up his nose.

Mike picked Dean up and set him on the bed, with his legs handing off the side.

"Pop?" Dean asked nervously when they were alone.

"What?" Mike waited as Dean stared morosely at his hand.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Mike debated with himself on whether to chew Dean out for punching a hole in the door or reassuring the kid that everything would be all right.

"For punching a hole in the door or scaring your mother?" Mike asked instead.

Dean shrugged. Mike sighed as he sat next to his oldest, and oddest, son. "X-rays don't hurt," he assured Dean. "But if you broke a bone or two in your hand, it may hurt when they set the bones."

"Set?" Dean asked, glancing up with wide eyes.

"Yeah. They have to put the two broken pieces together, so when the bone heals it'll be one bone again," Mike explained.

"Oh," Dean breathed, still looking at Mike. "Stay?" he asked in a small voice.

"I'll stay," Mike said with a nod. "Since we're waiting, want to tell me why you punched a hole through the guestroom door?"

Dean's head dropped and he shrugged again.

"Was it because you were mad?" Mike tried, starting with the obvious. Dean nodded.

"At me?"

Dean shook his head.

"At Mom?"

Dean hesitated before shaking his head again. Mike chewed his lower lip in indecision before attempting another question.

"At someone in the house?" If yes, this would narrow the list considerably. Mike did not want to have to try to guess the names of the kids involved in the after school fight.

Dean nodded.

"You were mad at Mikey?" Mike had a hard time wrapping his head around that one. Dean just didn't get mad, for one thing, and never at toddlers.

Dean shook his head again.

"But that just leaves Sammy," Mike protested. "And you never get mad at Sammy."

Dean shrugged.

"You were mad at Sammy?" Mike demanded. Dean nodded. "Why?"

Dean's head stayed down, but his cheeks flushed red. "Tattletale," he breathed out.

Mike scratched at his cheek. "But Sammy tattles all the time," he said. "What made today different?"

Dean stared down at his swinging feet. Mike was ready to press harder, but the doctor walked in to examine Dean's hand.

* * *

"Well?" Kate demanded anxiously, flinging the front door open before Mike and Dean could reach it.

Mike sighed. "Nothing's broken, but he's banged it up pretty good."

"Dean, go to your room," Kate ordered. "I want to talk to your father."

Dean started to push past them when Mike put out a hand. "No, Dean," he said softly, "go watch television in the den. Your mom and I can talk in our room."

Dean stood there for a moment, waiting. Mike shot her a strong look.

"The den is fine, Dean," Kate said hurriedly, wondering why in the world Mike would contradict her in front of one of the kids.

After they were safely out of earshot in their room, Kate waited for her husband to explain himself.

"I found out why he punched the door," Mike said slowly, standing against the bureau. "He's mad at Sammy."

Kate's jaw dropped. Well, first of all – Dean mad? What could possibly cause that? And second, at Sammy? She could not conceive of a situation where Sammy could make Dean mad.

"W-why?" Kate stuttered with the futile hope Mike might have discovered the cause.

"Something about being a tattletale?" Mike asked her, shrugging his shoulders.

Kate groaned, dropping down to sit on the bed. "I found out about the fight from Sammy," she admitted. "Then I called George to get all the details."

"George?" Mike asked, tilting his head to one side. "How the hell would George know?"

Kate shot her husband an irritated look. "Because he saw the fight. He came over while Dean was at karate to tell Sammy all about it."

Mike rubbed at his head the way he usually did when a headache was coming on. "George came over to tell Sammy, not us?"

Kate nodded. "You keep telling me boys will be boys," she reminded him. "Besides, George thought Dean was 'awesome.'"

Mike shook his head. "You know, I still haven't seen the door. I'm going to take a look at it. But I don't know what we're going to do about Dean and Sammy."

Kate shook her head and chewed the inside of her cheek. "I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe we can move Dean's therapy session up and ask the doctor to include Sammy?"

Mike pushed away from the bureau. "If you think it'll help," he told her. "Oh, and Dean can't join the competition team for at least a few weeks, they think the bruises go all the way into the bone."

Kate made a face at her husband. "Ouch."

"That's what I said," he replied as he headed out the door.

* * *

Sammy slipped into the den, unnoticed by his big brother. He hoped. He watched Dean stare at some stupid show, but his brother did not look like he was relaxing. His brother still looked mad, and that was scary. Sammy had never seen Dean mad like this before, much less at him. He wasn't sure what to do. All he wanted was to know what the other boy said to make Dean fight. It had to be really bad. Then Sammy planned to tell Mommy who could call the other boy's parents and make him stop being mean to Dean.

Dean's hand had a bandage around it and he held a funny looking blue thing over the bandage. Sammy never meant for any of this to happen. Dean should've just told him what he wanted to know. But now Dean was mad and hurt and Sammy didn't know how to fix it or who to ask. Usually he asked Dean.

With a sigh of defeat, Sammy sat on the floor where he could still watch his brother.

"Here you are!" Mikey crowed as he toddled into the room. "My here!"

Sammy watched Dean smile at that stupid Mikey. Mikey stopped to pat him on the head before heading to Dean. Well, if Dean hadn't known he was in the room before, he knew now. Mikey climbed up on the couch next to Dean.

"What dat?" Mikey asked.

"Bandage," Dean told him.

Mikey gasped. "My Dean hurt?" He investigated Dean's wrapped hand. "Dat big bang-aide," Mikey announced. "Dean hand hurt real bad?"

Dean shrugged. "It's not too bad, Mikey. Nothing's broken."

Mikey nodded as he climbed into Dean's lap. "Mikey show."

Sammy watched Dean roll his eyes as he reached for the remote with his good hand. He flipped through the channels until he found a cartoon. Mikey leaned back on Dean's chest, looking so comfortable, and Sammy started to cry. Mikey was stealing his big brother! Sammy jumped to his feet to run upstairs.

In his room, Sammy dove into his bed to bury his head under the pillows. Dean didn't love him any more! Dean liked Mikey better! Sammy sobbed his heart out, clutching the pillow to his face so he wouldn't make too much noise.

After a while, Sammy noticed a hand rubbing his back and a soothing voice talking to him, but it wasn't Dean. He wanted Dean! Sammy turned over to look at Mommy.

"What is it, Sammy?" she asked in a soft voice. "What's wrong?"

"Dean hates me!" Sammy bawled, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Oh, honey," Mommy said, pulling him into her lap, "Dean doesn't hate you. He's just upset right now, that's all. He'll calm down and then you'll be the best of friends again."

Sammy shook his head. "No, Mommy! No! Dean likes Mikey better!" Sammy buried his face in Mommy's shoulder to cry. Mommy held him, rubbing his back and not saying anything, for what felt like a long time. Finally Sammy stopped crying, because it hadn't worked. Dean still wasn't here.

Sniffling, Sammy rubbed at his eyes. "I want my Dean," he said slowly, his voice cracking.

"Well, look who's here," Mommy said, pointing at the doorway.

Dean stood in the doorway, his face downcast. Sammy's heart leapt. Maybe Dean hadn't come earlier because Mommy was here?

"I'll leave you boys alone," Mommy said.

Dean did not move until after Mommy left. Sammy waited, his heart hammering so hard in his chest he was afraid it would still hurt later.

"Dean?" he asked softly.

Dean walked slowly into the room. When he raised his head to look at Sammy, Sammy could see his big brother was still angry.

"You told on me," Dean said slowly. "You never told on me before."

"B-but I tell all the time," Sammy protested. "It never made you mad before!"

Dean shook his head. "You tell about me all the time, Sammy. You've never told on me. Today you told on me and got me in trouble with Mom."

Tears spilled down his cheeks again. "I'm sorry, Dean! I just wanted to know why you started a fight. I wanted to get the other boy in trouble!"

Surprise chased away the mad in Dean's face. "The other boy?" he asked.

Sammy nodded. "The boy you were fighting with. What he said had to be really bad."

Dean glanced away for a moment. "Yeah," he said softly. "It was."

"So he should be in trouble, not you!" Sammy insisted. "What did Mommy say about the fight? I'll talk to her, I'll fix it," he pleaded with his brother.

Dean sat next to him on the bed. Then he lifted one arm up. Sammy scrambled to sit inside Dean's arm.

"You can't fix it, Sammy," Dean said softly. "I shouldn't have been fighting. I know that. I screwed up. Again."

"Dean, what did he say?" Sammy demanded. "I know you wouldn't fight for no reason. What did the other boy say?"

Dean sighed and a lone tear trickled down his cheek. "Just the truth, Sammy."

"The truth?" Sammy asked, stunned. "You hit him because he told you the truth?"

Dean shrugged. "The truth hurts, kiddo." Dean hugged him a little bit. "Come on. Mikey has some stupid show on downstairs. Let's play with the racecar set or something."

"Crash cars?" Sammy asked hopefully. They almost never played with the crash cars any more.

"Okay," Dean told him. "But I get the red one."

"Okay, Dean," Sammy rushed to say. "Anything you want."

Dean rolled his eyes at Sammy, but Sammy meant it. He really did.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to everyone following this! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far.

**Chapter 8**

Kate was not having a good day. It was the third day of Mikey's ear infection, and Dean seemed to be the only person he would do anything for, including taking his medicine. Dean was serving the last day of his in-school suspension, but the teacher in charge had just called to report Dean refused to do any of the work they had given him, choosing to stare at the wall instead. The principal would let her know later on today if he would be allowed back into his regular class. Mike said the a/c was shot in her car and they would have to replace it, which was more money out the window. And on top of all that, Sammy's pre-k teacher complained this afternoon when Kate dropped him off that Sammy talked too much in class. She vaguely recalled having snapped back that at least he wanted to talk.

Now Mikey sat fussing in the floor refusing to play with any of his toys and looking plaintively around calling "Deeeeean" every few minutes. Her mother was on the phone expounding on the virtues of a strict, structured environment for children, a direct reference to Dean and the fight he had been in, and Kate was at her wit's end when a knock sounded on the front door. Wondering what in the hell else could happen in one freaking week, or one freaking day for that matter, Kate gratefully ended her phone call to answer the door and discovered her answer.

Fan? Meet awaiting excrement.

"Good afternoon, Missus Peavy," said Paul Hood. The CPS bastard was even smiling at her.

"What can I do for CPS today, Mister Hood?" Kate asked as sweetly as she could, desperately trying not to grind her teeth.

"I think you can guess why I'm here," he replied, still smiling. "May I come in?"

The fact CPS had any involvement in their lives still grated on Kate's last nerve. It was all because one hot-shot therapist thought he knew what was best for Dean. Would they be paying for that mistake for the rest of Dean's childhood? Standing stiffly aside, Kate motioned for him to come in. A glance at the wall clock in the den told her he had timed this perfectly. Dean was due home within five or ten minutes.

"I take it this is about Dean fighting after school last week?" Kate demanded. "We've already talked to him about it and his punishment will start in a few weeks, after the school is through with him and his hand heals up."

Paul pulled the damned file out of his briefcase. "Actually, it's the hand I wanted to talk to you about." He removed some pages from his file. "According to the hospital report there was some pretty substantial trauma to Dean's right hand. From my investigation of the incident it is unlikely that it was a result of the fight. What happened?"

Kate crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself as she glared at the interloper. "He punched a door."

Paul stood blinking at her for a long moment. "Excuse me?"

"I'll show you." Kate scooped up Mikey before leading the social worker up the stairs. She pointed out the hole Mike had not patched up yet. "Right there."

Paul whistled as he kneeled down to inspect the hole. "I guess if he punched the other boy like this, Jimmy Gunderson might have stayed down."

Kate's eyes hardened on Paul Hood. "Jimmy Gunderson?" she demanded. "He was in a fight with the Gunderson boy?"

Paul nodded slowly, still checking out Dean's hole.

"But Jimmy is what? Two years older than Dean? What were they doing together in the first place?" Kate demanded.

"The Gunderson home is only a couple of blocks away," Paul told her, as if she didn't already know it. "The boys ride the same bus. They can't exactly avoid each other, Missus Peavy."

Oh. Right. That also explained why George from next door saw the fight. He rode the bus with Dean too. As Sammy would say, 'Duh, Mom!'

"I don't suppose you were able to find out what the fight was about?" Kate asked, hopeful the meddling from the state might be useful for once.

"Actually I did," Paul announced. "I spoke with Jimmy Gunderson and some of the other kids, to see if Dean's hand was hurt in the fight. You're not going to believe this." He handed over a typed page from his file.

Kate skimmed it until she hit on the statement which provoked Dean's attack. "Son of a bitch," she whispered.

"I thought you might appreciate seeing that," Paul told her.

"Hold this." Kate shoved Mikey into the social worker's hands before racing down the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Paul shouted after her.

"I have to make a phone call!" Kate shouted back as she ran for the kitchen phone with the social worker's report in her hand. With a steady finger, Kate punched in the phone number for the Gundersons. She waited, her hands trembling not with fear but anticipation.

"Hello?"

"Rachel?" Kate demanded.

"Kate? Is that you? You know, I was hoping you'd call. I just don't know what got into the boys last week," Rachel began.

"You knew your son picked a fight with Dean and you didn't bother to tell me?" Kate snapped.

"Well... I assumed Dean told you," Rachel replied. "And what makes you think Jimmy started it?"

"Oh, don't give me that crap," Kate said harshly. "You know damn well Dean doesn't talk enough to order his own food much less start a fight."

Rachel sighed. "Katie, honey, that doesn't mean he can't start a fight. You do know who threw the first punch?"

"Yes, I do," Kate did not care for being called 'honey' by this vindictive bitch. "And I know why. Would you like to hear what your son said to Dean?"

There was a pregnant pause before Rachel said, "Very well." Kate had the nasty suspicion Rachel already knew the answer.

"He said," Kate read it from the paper so she wouldn't make a mistake, "your real dad left because you're such a wimp, and now the Peavys are stuck with you. They don't want you either, but it'd make them look bad to send you away, you loser." Her voice shook with rage. If Jimmy Gunderson were in this room, it wouldn't be Dean attacking him.

"Well, it's about time he heard the truth," Rachel said snidely. "I mean, when were you going to get around to telling him?"

Kate removed the receiver from her ear to stare at it in disbelief. "You bitch," she whispered.

Stunned, Kate hung up the receiver without another word. "That bitch," she said again.

"It's too bad Jimmy hasn't done anything to warrant an investigation on their family," Paul Hood said from behind her. "I'd love to get a crack at that household."

Kate turned around slowly, the words not quite registering with her. Mikey held out his arms to her. Kate took her son back to walk back into the den. Mikey started squirming in her arms, waving his arms excitedly and going on and on about "Deeeeean."

Kate stopped to listen and yes, she heard the school bus.

"Watch this," she whispered to Paul as she set Mikey on the floor. Kate sat down on the sofa to watch, needing a boost to her spirits.

Dean opened the door and pudgy Mikey bounded to his feet. With open arms, he rushed at the front door and his big brother. A broad, genuine smile lit Dean's face as he dropped his school bag and caught the racing toddler. Dean kicked the front door closed before carrying Mikey to the den. He gave Kate a quizzical look.

"It's ready for you on the kitchen counter," she said, referring to Mikey's medicine. "He won't take it for me."

Dean nodded silently as Mikey babbled on about his exciting day of cartoons and toys. The older boy carried him into the kitchen. Kate waited for them to return, knowing what Dean would ask for next.

When Dean stood uncertainly before them, frowning over Paul Hood being in the same room, Mikey grabbed at Dean's jeans and shirt.

"Football! Deeeeean! Football!"

"You can take him in the backyard for a few minutes, Dean," Kate said. "We don't have to leave to pick up Sammy just yet."

Dean nodded, though Kate noticed the boy watching Paul Hood out of the corner of his eye as he led excited Mikey outside.

"I don't think he trusts you," Kate said, pulling her gaze from the door back into the room.

"Maybe not," Paul replied. "I take it your youngest won't take his medicine from anyone but Dean?"

Kate sighed and shook her head. "I don't know what he does differently. Lord knows I've watched and tried all his tricks, but they just don't work for me."

"Well, I wouldn't worry too much about that," Paul said. "But you do know the Gunderson's have a younger son? One about a year younger than Dean and bigger than him now."

Kate looked at him anxiously. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Paul said sadly, "I think Dean's the perfect target for bullies. He won't rat them out, because he won't tell anyone his side of the story. That also makes him different, and bullies capitalize on pointing out differences."

She wrung her hand anxiously. "What can I do?"

Paul shrugged, putting his file away. "Honestly? I can't really answer that. But off the record?" He looked her in the eye. "I think the martial arts classes were a really good head-start. I talked to a few kids who saw the fight. If the teacher hadn't broken it up, they were confident Dean would have pounded Jimmy into next week. So was the teacher, by the way. But that's unofficial. I can't recommend ending fights, even if someone else starts them."

Kate glanced at the back door. "Oh, dear," she whispered as his implication sunk in. He really wanted her to let Dean fight? Why couldn't they just call each other names like regular kids? Kate kept remembering what Dean looked like lying in the hospital bed, so white he matched the sheets. Oh, she couldn't condone this. She just couldn't.

* * *

"And why not?" Mike demanded of his wife. "If the other kid starts it and Dean can finish it, why not?"

"Mike..." Kate wrung her hands. "We just can't let him get hurt again."

Mike groaned, pulling Kate into a soft embrace. "Honey, boys will be boys. Every boy gets into a fight sometime. It's like a rite of passage. He either fights, or gets his head stuck in a toilet. Personally, I'd rather see Dean get into a few fights."

Kate shook her head against his shoulder. "I can't do it," she whispered.

"Then don't," he said firmly. "But if he does, and didn't provoke the fight, which we can pretty much assume he won't, then Dean won't be punished. How's that? Oh, and I'd like to let him off the hook for the competition team, if that's all right."

"Why?" Kate demanded. "It'd be good for him to compete, see how good he is compared with other kids his age. It should build self-confidence."

Mike shook his head. "I don't know, honey. You didn't see him when I told him he was going to start team practice soon. He turned white as a ghost and his hands started shaking. I don't think he's ready."

Kate sighed, wringing her hands tightly. "All right," she whispered with a shrug. "I just don't know what to do about him."

"He'll get there," Mike assured her. "Maybe Dean just needs more time."

* * *

Dean slipped out of the hall to his parents' room with a huge sense of relief. They weren't going to force him to compete. They still didn't know what to do with him, but they weren't going to make him join the competition team. Sammy would be disappointed, but oh well. He could make it up to Sammy somehow, maybe by playing with the crash cars more.

Halfway up the stairs to his room, Dean heard his name called. He turned around to go back down.

"Dean!" Mom said when she saw him. "Honey, there was a call from your school today. Why wouldn't you do your schoolwork?"

Oh, crap! He forgot about that. Dean shrugged, wondering how he could explain.

"Dean," Mom said with a sigh which made him cringe. They really did think he was a problem. "Honey, was there a reason you couldn't do your work?"

Dean nodded.

"What was the reason?" Mom asked patiently.

Dean chewed his lower lip for a moment before lifting up his bandaged hand. Mom had a strange look on her face as she took and and unwrapped the tight bandage. When it was loosened, Dean let out a breath of relief. The stupid thing had been killing him all day but he wasn't allowed to remove it, only Mom and Pop could.

"Oh, honey, this looks swollen." Mom examined his hand. "Did you do anything else to it?"

Dean shrugged.

"Sammy!" Mom shouted up the stairs. Dean heard Sammy pounding down the stairs within moments.

"Yes, Mommy?" Sammy asked as he ran up to them.

"Sammy, please go with Dean into the den and find out what happened to his hand. It's all swollen," Mom told him.

"Okay, Mommy." Sammy took him by the other hand to lead him into the other room. Sammy turned and stood with his hands on his hips and a determined look on his face. "Talk, Dean. What happened?"

Dean shrugged. "I tripped and fell. No big deal."

Sammy's eyes narrowed at him. "Did you trip by yourself, or did somebody trip you?"

Damn, the kid knew him pretty well. Dean shot him a dirty look.

Sammy made a nasty face back before turning towards the hall to shout, "Somebody tripped Dean and he fell on his hand!"

Dean rolled his eyes. He didn't need this. Mom came rushing into the den looking all worried.

"You fell on your hand?" she demanded. "Maybe we should take you back to the hospital for more x-rays. Mike!"

"Yeah, I heard," Pop grumbled. "He doesn't need more x-rays, Kate. Just loosen the bandage and give him his ice-pack back. I'll get it, I think it's still in the freezer." Pop walked through the den to the kitchen while Mom fussed with his bandage.

When Pop came back, he told Mom to worry about supper, that he would see to Dean's hand. Then Pop made Dean sit on the couch and turn on a show he liked, not one Sammy or Mikey watched. He sat next to Dean on the couch, arms over his chest watching the show, though Dean figured Pop was only pretending to like it. Not that it mattered, it was kind of nice to sit with Pop like this. Sammy jumped up to sit between them after a while. Then Mikey came in and climbed into Dean's lap.

"My show," Mikey announced.

But when Dean reached for the remote, Pop took it away. "No, Mikey," Pop said softly. "Today we're watching Dean's show."

Mikey investigated Dean's hurt hand and the blue ice-pack on it. "Uh-oh," Mikey said. "Dean hurt hand 'gain."

"Dean didn't do it!" Sammy insisted. "Somebody tripped him!"

"Hurt my Dean?" Mikey asked, twisting around to look Dean in the face.

"No," Sammy was starting to sound mad now. "They hurt MY Dean."

"My Dean!" Mikey shouted, spinning around to face Sammy.

Oh, crap. Not this again! Dean grabbed Mikey to hold him away from Sammy before they could start whaling on each other. He gave Sammy a hard look when he saw his little brother's fist raise.

"No," he said sternly.

Sammy lowered his fist slowly, still glaring daggers at Mikey. "My Dean," he muttered.

Mikey stuck his tongue out at Sammy and leaned back on Dean's chest, wrapping one of Dean's arms around his middle. Dean rolled his eyes and leaned over to whisper to Sammy, "Your story tonight."

Sammy nodded, settling back against Pop.

"What did he say?" Pop asked casually.

"I pick the bedtime story tonight," Sammy said with a shrug.

"My turn!" Mikey shouted.

Dean shook his head, tickling Mikey's side. Mikey giggled and laughed until he forgot about wanting to pick the story tonight. When Mom called them in to eat, everyone was quietly watching Dean's show, and that was a first.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Two years Later - Dean: 10, Sammy: 6, Mikey: 4**

Dean hated the Gundersons. Period. He was so relieved when Jimmy moved up to middle school, but Dean figured he would still have to deal with that bastard next year. His younger brother Billy was just as bad though, if not worse. And Billy had it in for Sammy, which really ticked Dean off, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it except walk Sam to and from school instead of riding the bus. Billy was in fourth grade and Sammy just in first, so it was really unequal. Dean had to walk Sammy through the halls in school, to and from class every day, just to make sure Billy couldn't start anything.

Today Dean's English teacher had called Dean up to the front after class. He refused to do oral book reports and was perfectly willing to take a zero to avoid standing up there, which drove his teacher crazy. It kept his English grade at a high C or low B instead of the A he really deserved, but Dean didn't care. His teacher offered to let him do an extra credit project to make up the difference, which he promised to consider. Now he was late picking up Sammy.

Dean hoped Sammy would be waiting for him right outside the first grade classroom, where he was supposed to be. He raced through the halls, heading for the first grade wing. Dodging smaller kids as he dashed through, Dean noticed the hall outside Sammy's classroom was conspicuously empty. Dean poked his head inside.

"Hi, Dean!" Sammy's teacher, Miss Summers said brightly. "Sammy asked me to tell you he'd be outside on the playground."

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes. "Thanks!" he called out before running outside. He burst through the door closest to the playground and stopped short, a couple of kids plowing into his back.

Sammy stood off to one side of the playground with Billy Gunderson shoving him in the chest. Crap! Dean walked forward slowly, not wanting to make the situation worse. Silently he pleaded with Sammy to keep his big mouth shut, but it wasn't meant to be.

"And you're stupid, too!" Sammy shouted at the top of his lungs. A crowd had already gathered around the boys and now they 'oooh-ed' over Sammy's insult.

"Well at least my big brother knows how to talk!" Billy shot back.

Sammy's face turned red. Uh-oh. Dean hurried forward, needing to push kids aside.

"Dean can talk! He just doesn't like talking to poo-poo-heads like you!"

Dead silence fell over the crowd and Dean's heart pounded in his chest. Oh, crap! What was Sammy doing! He shoved his way to the inner circle, where he could see what was happening. Sammy was bent over, holding his stomach. What happened? What did he miss?

Billy hit Sammy in the stomach, again it looked like. Dean's mouth fell open. Billy was a jackass, but Dean never dreamed he would really hit a little kid like Sammy. Sammy stumbled back a step and Dean wondered how in the hell he could break this up when Billy's hand shot out again, this time hitting Sammy right in the face and knocking him back on his ass.

Dean stared, transfixed, as he watched Sammy land hard in the dirt. A trickle of blood came out of his nose and Sammy looked up, his terrified eyes finding Dean in the crowd. Sammy was hurt. Sammy was scared. Sammy needed protection. Sammy needed _him_.

Dean turned his head slowly to look at Billy, who stood smiling smugly over Sammy. Yeah, like it took a lot of guts to hit a little kid. Dean dropped his school bag and narrowed his eyes on his opponent. He stepped forward, between Sammy and Billy.

"Aw, ain't that sweet?" Billy said snidely. "Big brother the dummy is gonna-"

Dean never found out what Billy would have said. The crowd surrounding them no longer existed for Dean, only Sammy and Billy. The next few minutes were a blur of fists. His. Billy hit the ground under the onslaught of his assault, lifting both arms to protect his head. Fine with Dean, it left his body open. Dean pounded and kicked, taking all of his anger and fear of Sammy being hurt out on Billy, who truly deserved it anyway. Somebody tried to get in his way, between them, but Dean wouldn't have it. He wanted Billy to still have bruises next year. The bastard hurt Sammy!

"Dean!" Sammy's voice pierced his anger. He paused, wondering if Sammy needed help with the bloody nose. "Dean!" Sammy's little face, blood trickling from his nose and smeared across one cheek, appeared between him and Billy. Dean found himself propelled away from Billy, who lay sobbing on the ground. Two teachers moved to stand between him and Billy. Dean looked down at Sammy's bloody face.

"Nurse," he said simply, taking Sammy by the hand. The crowd which had gathered to watch the fight parted silently for them. Dean led Sammy through the halls to the nurse's office, hoping she was still there. He was dimly aware of an adult following them. Dean did not bother knocking on the nurse's door, he opened it boldly and strode in with Sammy.

"Oh, my," she said. Nurse Kelly grabbed some white stuff and beckoned to Sammy. Dean stood close by while she stopped Sammy's bloody nose and cleaned up his face. Sammy told a rather interesting version of the fight outside.

"Those Gunderson boys," she muttered, shooting a hard look over Dean's head. Dean turned around to discover his English teacher standing just inside the nurse's door. "What happened with Billy?"

"They were calling the paramedics," Miss Greer said. "More of a precaution than anything, but Dean worked him over pretty good." She looked down at him. "How about if I call your mom to come pick you up?" she asked. "I'm pretty sure you missed the bus."

Mom! Oh, crap! Dean's eyes went wide as he fought down his panic. Mom would totally freak, especially since Sammy had been hurt. His teacher knew he walked home, so they must not be allowed today.

"Pop?" he asked her.

Miss Greer stood waiting, expecting him to elaborate.

"We'd rather you called Pop," Sammy said from behind him, much to Dean's relief. "Mom is going to freak. She'd probably show up crying and get Baby Mikey all upset..."

"Pop," Dean repeated firmly, interrupting Sammy and making eye contact with Miss Greer.

She nodded at him. "All right. I'm sure we have his work number on file. Wait in here. I don't want you outside when the paramedics show up to check out Billy Gunderson."

No wonder they weren't being allowed to walk home. Dean sighed gratefully as he sat beside Sammy. Sammy leaned on him and Dean wrapped an arm around his little brother, so relieved Sammy seemed to be all right. Leaning his cheek against the top of Sammy's messy hair, Dean asked, "How're you?"

Sammy leaned into him more. "Good, Dean," he said, one arm grabbing Dean around the waist and squeezing tight. "Real good."

Dean had no idea what to make of that, but he was willing to take Sammy's word on it. They were still in the nurse's office when Pop arrived. He barreled into the office, all sweaty and greasy from work. Not that Dean minded. He thought it was pretty cool Pop got to work on cars all day. It sounded like fun. Pop looked Sammy's face over carefully.

"He give you a bloody nose?" Pop asked, taking the tissue Sammy had been using to wipe a little blood off his cheek.

"Yes, sir," Sammy replied, sounding really cheerful.

"What are you so happy about?" Pop asked suspiciously.

Sammy chuckled. "You shoulda seen the way Dean beat the crap outta Billy. It was awesome!"

Pop's eyes cut over to Dean. "That right?" he asked in a hard tone. Dean swallowed hard before nodding. "Hands," Pop demanded.

Dean had to release Sammy to hold out his hands to Pop. Pop studied his knuckles for a moment. "Excuse me?" he said kind of loud.

Nurse Kelly left her desk to come over. "Yes, Mister Peavy?"

Pop held up Dean's hands. "Think you could take care of my older son's hands before we leave?"

There were a few scrapes and the skin over some of his knuckles had split since he had been fighting bare fisted, but Dean didn't think it was too bad. Nurse Kelly rushed around to find some cotton balls and alcohol to wash out Dean's cuts and scrapes. Dean rolled his eyes at Pop, thinking this was a waste of time.

Pop glared back at him. "Just let her do it, Dean," he said in a hard voice.

Dean dropped his gaze and nodded. Nurse Kelly taped up the larger splits across his knuckles. Dean nodded his thanks.

"Dean says thank you," Sammy said as he hopped down. "And me too."

Nurse Kelly smiled at them. "No problem, Sammy. Now you stay out of trouble," she said, patting him on the head.

Dean rolled his eyes again as he followed Pop and Sammy outside. Sammy stay out of trouble? That would be the day!

* * *

Mike had to force himself not to grin as he drove the boys home. Oh, if only Dean had taken down that Jimmy Gunderson. Well, Billy would have to do. For now. Next year he and Jimmy would be going to the same school, and Dean would have another year of, uh... What was Dean taking now? He couldn't keep track. Well, whatever it was appeared to be working, but Mike was just as certain Kate would not be happy about this. She hated to see Dean hurt, in any way.

He let the boys out of his work truck. They both followed him meekly into the house, no doubt anticipating their mother's reaction.

"Boys, you're late! Did something happen on the way home?" Kate called out from the kitchen.

"No," Mike hollered back. He snapped his fingers at the boys, who were trying to sneak upstairs to their room, no doubt to hide out. They sighed and moved to stand behind him.

"Mike?" Kate pushed through the swinging kitchen door. "What are you doing home? What's going on?"

"I picked the boys up from school today," he said, now wondering if he should water the events down a little. "There was some trouble after classes let out today."

"Trouble?" Kate looked alarmed and her gaze was instantly drawn to Sammy. "Is that blood? What happened?" She rushed forward to lift Sammy's face up to see it better.

"Now, Kate," Mike said gently, pushing her a step back. "The school nurse already checked him out. It was just a little bloody nose."

Kate let out a breath of relief. "Oh thank goodness. I was afraid Sammy was fighting."

"Not me!" Sammy said proudly, beaming up at Dean. Oh, crap. Sammy and his big freaking mouth.

"Who was fighting?" Kate demanded. She grabbed one of Dean's hands, gasping when she saw some of his fingers taped. "Did you break anything?" Her voice was pitched high and her hand shook. Mike could see she was nearly hysterical.

Mike turned her away from the boys, nearly having to pick her up to do it. "Go on upstairs," he told them with a jerk of his head at the stairs. They didn't need to be told twice, bounding up and taking the steps two at a time.

"Where were the teachers?" Kate demanded as he forced her to sit on the couch. "Why didn't anyone stop it? Dean could have been seriously hurt!"

"Kate. Deep breath," Mike ordered. She breathed in deep for him and let it out slowly. "It happened after school. From what I could piece together from Sammy and Dean's English teacher, who arrived after the fight had started, Dean's teacher asked him to stay after for a few minutes to talk to him about an extra credit assignment. When he went to find Sammy, Sammy was out on the playground trading insults with Billy Gunderson."

Kate groaned. "What is with those Gunderson boys?"

"That was pretty much the school nurse's sentiment," Mike told her. "Well, I guess Billy gave Sammy a bloody nose, and that's when Dean arrived."

Kate hid her face in her hands. "What happened?"

Mike cleared his throat, unsure how to phrase this. "Well, let's just say, I seriously doubt Billy will be tempted to pick on Sammy again."

Kate's head snapped up. "You're kidding."

Mike shook his head. "The paramedics were arriving to check out Billy by the time we left." He could not control the smile on his face this time. "And it's about damn time. I can't believe Dean has been able to hold back this long. I'd love for him to get a crack at Jimmy."

Kate glared at him. "Mike!" she snapped, her face contorted with fury.

Mike shrugged back at her. "Honey, you know it's going to happen. It's been building up since Dean was in first grade."

"I will not raise a bully!" Kate declared.

Mike took a long look at his wife. "Now I know you're not talking about Dean. A bully? Honestly, Kate, I don't think the kid has a mean bone in his body."

She sagged back into the couch. "I know," Kate whispered. "I just don't want to see him hurt. Again."

"He's not kicking out windows," Mike argued in a matching whisper. "He's protecting his little brother."

"He was then, too," she pointed out.

Good point, he thought. Mike glanced at the clock. "So who's picking up Mikey from pre-k?"

"I will," Kate offered. "You need a shower."

"Yes, ma'am," Mike agreed readily. "And honey? No punishment?"

Kate shook her head. "Not if he didn't start the fight. I can imagine what Sammy's version will sound like in a couple of days."

Mike chuckled as he helped her to her feet. "It'll be Super-Dean, to the rescue!"

She shook her head as she made for her purse and keys. "Probably. I can only imagine what my mother will say about it."

"We don't have to go over there, you know!" Mike shouted at her retreating back. Rats. He thought he had a good out there.

* * *

Sammy tiptoed back to their room. "No punishment," he whispered to Dean.

Dean let out a humongous sigh of relief. "Good. I have homework. How about you?"

Sammy nodded. "Spelling. You gonna help me?"

"Sure. Get it," Dean said with a shrug.

Sammy returned with his spelling book. "You're not mad at me?" he asked cautiously.

Dean's head snapped up, a shocked look on his face. "Why would I be mad at you?" he demanded. "Did you screw up my remote control car?" His eyes narrowed. "Again?"

Sammy shook his head. "No, Dean. Swear. I meant about the fight."

Dean's face relaxed and he shrugged. "Nah. But you'll haveta cover for me when I fight Jimmy."

Sammy's eyes widened as he stared at his big brother. "What?"

Dean took his spelling book out of his hands. "Which unit are you on? Six?"

"Dean!" Sammy slammed his hand over the open booklet. "What are you talking about?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Your spelling homework, doofus. What'd you think?"

"No!" Sammy snapped. "About Jimmy Gunderson!"

Dean gave him a hard, cold look which sent a shiver down Sammy's spine. "You need to cover for me when I fight Jimmy."

"Fight Jimmy?" Sammy breathed. Jimmy was freaking huge! Maybe Dean got hit in the head when Sammy blinked or something, because he definitely wasn't thinking straight. "You can't fight Jimmy Gunderson!"

"I have to, Sammy," Dean protested with a shake of his head. "He's going to come over here to get even with me for beating up Billy. You'll have to keep Mom out of the way while I take care of him."

"Wh-when?" Sammy stuttered. Dean had been totally awesome at school, especially considering Billy was about a head taller than Dean. But Jimmy was two years older and HUGE! He didn't like this idea at all.

Dean shrugged, leaning over Sammy's spelling book. "No telling. Could be today or tomorrow. We'll just have to keep an eye out."

Sammy tried to concentrate on his spelling work, but he couldn't. He was too distracted by the thought of Dean planning to fight Jimmy Gunderson. Jimmy's friends called him Mad Dog. Sammy always thought that was a stupid name, especially since he knew Jimmy came up with it. Who wanted to be called Mad Dog? Well, a bully like Jimmy Gunderson, obviously. Duh.

Mom came home with Baby Mikey, who had to climb all over their homework and tell them all about his day in 'big-boy school'. What a baby. Then Mikey noticed the tape on Dean's hands so Sammy was able to mention the totally awesome fight Dean had been in. Unfortunately he couldn't enjoy telling his story too much, since he kept expecting a knock on the door at any minute.

After dinner, while Mom and Pop were watching some cop show downstairs and Dean had him and Baby Mikey playing with the racecar set, Sammy heard a noise at the window. Dean looked out and frowned. He opened the window to wave one arm out before lowering it again.

"It's time," Dean said as he turned around. He rolled his head around and shook out his shoulders. "You two keep Mom and Pop busy. I'll be out front."

Sammy bit down on his lower lip, shaking his head. "No, Dean," he whined. "I want to go out there with you."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Why? So you have a new story to tell?"

"No," Sammy whispered. "Because I want to be sure he doesn't hurt you."

Dean snorted. Loud. "Dude, I'm going out there for a fight. If course I'm going to get hurt! You two keep your butts inside. That asshole isn't above hitting one of you to get to me." He pointed at Sammy. "Keep Mom and Pop in the freaking house."

Sammy took a deep breath. He didn't like it. Not one bit. But he nodded anyway. "Be careful," he whispered.

Dean shook his head. "No way. I'm gonna pulverize him." He motioned to him and Mikey. "You two go downstairs first and distract Mom and Pop. I'll sneak out the front door."

Sammy sighed heavily as he took Baby Mikey's hand to lead him downstairs. "Why Dean gotta fight?" Mikey pestered him in a whisper. "Why gots to?"

"Because Dean said so," Sammy whispered back. Baby Mikey nodded seriously. Yeah, that figured. Anything Dean said was always fine with the little kiss-up.

When they reached the den, Sammy put on a huge smile and held up Baby Mikey's hand. "Mikey had a great day at school!" he announced. "And he wants to tell you all about it!"

Well, Baby Mikey didn't need any more than that, thankfully. Mikey launched into a detailed description of finger painting and learning his letters and shapes. Sammy kept one ear tuned to the sound of the front door. The instant he heard it close, Sammy slipped out of the den to rush back upstairs. At least he should be able to watch the fight from their bedroom window.

By the time he reached the window, Sammy could hear the boys outside. He raised the window overlooking the front yard and leaned on the windowsill with both arms. Jimmy shoved Dean in the chest. Sammy's breath caught in his throat.

"Come on, dummy!" Jimmy shouted. A couple of his friends made jeering noises. "You want to pick on little kids, huh? But not somebody your own size?"

Sammy watched Dean's head snap up and his big brother glare at Jimmy, eyes hard and cold. He felt a cold prickle creep down his spine. In that instant, Sammy knew Jimmy didn't stand a chance. Dean squared his shoulders and shook out his arms, never losing eye contact.

"Hey, Jimmy!" one of Jimmy's buddies shouted. "The dummy acts like he's going to fight!" The three big boys with Jimmy laughed.

Sammy had a funny feeling, like somebody was watching him. He glanced back over his shoulder. Pop stood over him, looking out the window.

"Did I miss anything?" Pop whispered.

Sammy frowned and shook his head. "Not yet."

"Good." Pop leaned one arm against the wall. "Don't tell Mom."

Sammy nodded, returning his attention to the scene outside. Jimmy threw a punch at Dean, which Dean ducked. Actually, Dean made it look easy. Some of the big boys exchanged looks of surprise. Jimmy tried to hit Dean again, with the same results.

"Stand still!" Jimmy ordered.

Dean shrugged, planting his feet. He motioned for Jimmy to hit him, much to Sammy's surprise.

"What the hell is he doing?" Pop whispered, leaning close enough to the window to brush against Sammy's head.

Jimmy leaned forward as he threw his next punch. Dean grabbed him by the arm and threw Jimmy off to the side. Jimmy stumbled, but managed to stay on his feet. With a frustrated shout, Jimmy launched himself at Dean. Later Sammy decided that was Jimmy's Big Mistake. Dean leaned down, catching Jimmy's midsection with his shoulder and tossing Jimmy aside like a rag doll. But Dean didn't stop there. No. He waited for Jimmy to try to stand back up, which was when Dean kicked him in the ribs, sending him rolling. One of the other boys, Jimmy's friends, tried to step in. Dean went after him too with a cool move. Dean knocked the second boy off his feet then delivered a nasty blow to the chin. That boy stayed down even though Sammy was sure he was still awake. Jimmy rolled on the ground, groaning.

"I think that's enough," Pop said. "I'm going out there. Keep your mother in the den."

Sammy nodded, following on Pop's heels down the stairs. He went into the den where Mikey was showing off his forward rolls. Sammy egged Mikey on, doing more stuff to entertain Mom, until Pop's voice was too loud to ignore.

"And if you come back here, I'm calling the police!" Pop roared from outside the front door.

Mom jumped off the couch to race to the front door. When she flung it open, Pop and Dean walked in.

"What was that?" Mom demanded, her voice all high and squeaky. "What happened?"

"Oh, just some neighborhood boys trying to hassle Dean," Pop said, waving one hand at the front yard.

"Did they hurt you?" Mom asked, leaning over to examine Dean. "What's this?" she demanded as her finger traced a red blotch on Dean's cheek.

"Oh, that's from the fight at school," Pop said quickly. "Didn't you notice it earlier?"

Mom frowned up at Pop. "No. Are you sure?"

"Oh, yeah," Pop replied with one hand on Dean's shoulder. "I noticed it when I picked the boys up."

"Well, it must be swelling up then," Mom said with a frown. She stood up. "Dean, let's go in the kitchen and get an ice-pack. You can use it on your cheek."

Dean nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He followed her into the kitchen.

Sammy looked up at Pop when he figured it was safe. "Awesome, right?"

Pop grinned real big. "Totally awesome." He glanced at the kitchen door. "But don't tell your mother," he whispered.

Sammy nodded before heading into the kitchen to be sure Dean wasn't hurt any worse than a couple of new bruises. Oh, man, were the bullies in school going to get it now, Sammy thought gleefully. He could mouth off to anybody he wanted, as long as Dean was within shouting distance. Since Dean took down Jimmy Gunderson, he could take anybody! Sammy's eyes sparkled as he looked up at his big brother with absolute awe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Two Years Later - Dean: 12, Sam: 8, Mikey: 6**

Mikey clung to Dean's hand as they walked to his first grade classroom. Mikey did not want to be here. He liked pre-k and kindergarten, but first grade was scary. And Sammy told him there wasn't even a nap-time! When they reached the room, Mikey knew he was right. There were desks everywhere and no play rug. How can you have a class without a play rug? Sammy warned him about how mean the teachers were, how they wouldn't let you have any fun and you got punished for smiling. Mikey grabbed Dean's arm with his other hand.

"Don't make me stay," he pleaded. "Please, Dean! I wanna go back to kindergarten!"

Dean gave him a puzzled look. He kneeled down to look Mikey in the eye. "I thought you were excited about first grade?" he asked in a soft voice. "Don't you want to learn how to read?"

Mikey shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. "The teachers are mean and hit you with rulers!" he cried, throwing his arms around his big brother's neck and holding tight.

Dean chuckled, rubbing his back. "Mikey? Did Sam tell you that?"

Mikey nodded as he cried into Dean's shoulder.

Dean pulled him away. "Easy, big guy," Dean whispered as he brushed away Mikey's tears. "Sam was messing with you, kid." He grinned. "You get to color all kinds of pictures and play games. They even have art classes. I know you love to paint."

Mikey nodded slowly. Dean wouldn't lie to him. Darn that Sammy!

"Sammy needs to pay," Mikey told his big brother, sniffling and rubbing one eye.

Dean's grin broadened. "Tell you what. If you stop crying, I'll help you get even with Sam. Okay?"

Mikey nodded slowly. "How?"

Dean shrugged. "Whatever you want. Salt in his toothpaste? Oh, I know. Let's put toothpaste in his shoes."

Mikey giggled. "His hair," he suggested. "Can we shave his head?"

Dean laughed at that. "Dude, there is no way I'm shaving Sam's head. He'd kill us. But we could put some stuff on it while he's sleeping. Maybe give him a nice pink or purple streak?"

"Awesome!" Mikey said, hopping excitedly. "Really, Dean? Can we?"

"One condition," Dean said sternly. "You have to stop crying and give first grade a chance. You might like it, you know."

Mikey sighed as he looked over his shoulder into the classroom. Kids were filling the room and the teacher took each one to a seat, smiling. "Okay," he said in a little voice, "if you walk me inside."

Dean nodded as he stood. He held out his hand for Mikey again. Mikey took it, feeling braver with his big brother at his side. His new teacher came over and she had a nice smile. She was pretty too. She led Mikey and Dean to his desk and chair and explained how the classroom was set up.

"Why didn't your parents bring you today, Mike?" his teacher, who was real pretty, asked.

"I'm Mikey," he corrected her. "Because I wanted my big brother to do it. Mom and Pop are gonna pick me up today 'cause they want to meet you."

"Okay, Mikey," she said real sweet. Mikey grinned back. He was gonna marry his teacher one day. He hoped she could wait until he was all grown up like Dean to marry her. "But won't Dean be late for his class? You're in middle school, aren't you, Dean?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean said softly.

"But Dean takes Sammy on the first day every year, so he's gotta take me too," Mikey insisted. It was fair!

"Oh, I see." His teacher smiled real big. "You're lucky to have such a good big brother."

"I know." Mikey grinned at her. "Dean's gonna come after school everyday to get me, just like he does Sammy. That's okay, right?"

"Sure." She winked at Dean and Dean's cheeks turned bright red. "No problem. You better let Dean go to his school before they start looking for him."

"Bye, Dean!" Mikey gave his brother a crushing hug before sitting down at his new grown up desk. He was gonna kill Sammy for scaring him like that.

* * *

Dean ran flat out from the elementary over to the middle school. He was really late this year. Last year he only had to walk Sam to class on the first day. This year Mikey insisted on the same treatment and Sam had intentionally kept them waiting in his third grade classroom. Dean wasn't going to feel bad about Sam having a pink stripe in his hair. Not at all. What a pain in the ass he had been turning into lately.

He was out of breath when he reached his homeroom. The teacher announced starting tomorrow there would be after-school detentions assigned for anyone who arrived after the last morning bell. Dean waited nervously until he was assigned to a seat. It was the same crap every year on the first day. It wasn't his fault the middle school classes started before elementary. His teacher gave him the slip for his assigned locker and told Dean to go find it and make sure the combination worked. Dean nodded silently before heading down the hall.

To be honest, Dean preferred being really late on the first day. This way he always got to check out his locker by himself not with the whole rest of his homeroom. The combination worked and his locker was in a new hallway this year. Dean walked slowly back to his assigned homeroom, arriving just in time to receive his full class schedule.

When he walked into his English class, Dean got the shock of his life. Jimmy Gunderson sat in the back row! What the hell? Jimmy gave him a nasty look as Dean opted for a seat near the front, and the door. Jimmy looked just as big, and stupid, as ever. Their teacher, a thin woman with poofy hair, rapped a ruler on her desk.

"Good morning," she announced briskly. "I'm Miss Nevins, your English teacher. This is not a blow-off class or an easy A. James in the back there can attest to that." She glared at Jimmy. "Since this is his second time to take my class."

A number of the kids chuckled as Dean sunk lower in his seat. Crap. He was going to be stuck with Jimmy Gunderson in his class all freaking year? Well this just sucked out loud.

Dean felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see who was behind him. It was John Greyson. They had been in the same English class last year, too.

"Is that Jimmy Gunderson?" John whispered.

Dean nodded back. John rolled his eyes, echoing Dean's sentiments.

"Lunch period?" John whispered. Dean passed back his schedule as their teacher began her first day lecture. When John passed it back, Dean noticed he had written a 'S' next to most of Dean's classes and his lunch period, meaning they shared those. Great. At least he would know someone in most of his classes this year. Well, it was like Pop always said, sometimes you get the good with the bad.

* * *

Dean sat with John Greyson, Billy Williams and George Saunders at lunch.

"Anyway," George continued, "I can't believe they didn't hold Jimmy Gunderson back again. They're only making him retake English this time. I heard he flunked math too, but they just stuck him in remedial. Something about his father threatening the principal."

John nudged Dean's arm. "Is he always like this?" John whispered.

Dean nodded as he chuckled. "Always."

"Hey, Dean," Billy Williams interrupted George going on about how wimpy the school principal acted, "I heard a rumor about you. Can I ask?"

Dean nodded and shrugged, digging into his mashed potatoes.

"Is it true you beat up Jimmy Gunderson?" Billy Williams asked breathlessly.

Dean shook his head. "Long time ago," he said dismissively, waving his fork in the air.

John's eyes widened. "What? You're kidding! When?" he demanded.

"About two years ago," George told them. "I saw the whole thing from my house. I live next door to Dean, you know." His half-eaten burger dropped on his tray as George found the opportunity to retell one of his favorite stories. Dean couldn't believe John hadn't heard it before. Well, George didn't have lunch period with them last year, so that might explain it.

"See Billy Gunderson, Jimmy's younger brother, tried to beat up Dean's little brother Sammy after school," George started.

"Sam," Dean reminded George.

"Right. Sam. Sorry, Dean." George rubbed his hands together, warming up to his story. "Anyway, Sam was in first grade and Billy was in fourth, but he was about a head taller than Dean. We were in fifth."

"Duh, if it happened two years ago," John snapped. "Get on with it!"

"I'm getting there!" George said defensively. "As I was saying, giant fourth grader Billy tried to beat up first grader Sam Peavy after school. Gave Sam a bloody nose, the way I hear it."

"The way you hear it?" Billy demanded. "I thought you saw it?"

"The fight with Jimmy, not Billy. And if you'd shut it I might be able to tell you about it." George slammed his hand palm down on the table. Everyone was quiet. For a change. Dean really couldn't see what the fuss was about. He watched the others, curious about their interest.

"Again, Billy gave Sammy-" George sighed. "I mean Sam, a bloody nose. Dean took him down. They had to call the paramedics!" He whispered the last part.

John's jaw dropped as he turned to Dean. "No!"

Dean shrugged. "Wasn't like he went to the hospital."

"He stayed home for a week!" George stated. "And after Billy went home, his older brother Jimmy found out who beat the crap out of him and went to Dean's house." A broad smile creased George's face. "That's when it got really good."

The other two boys leaned over the table, closer to George. Dean couldn't take much more of this.

"No big deal," Dean insisted. "He can't fight."

George snorted. "He can't fight fair, you mean. It was great! Every time that jerk tried to hit Dean, Dean either ducked or dodged it. Then he threw Jimmy over his shoulder. I'm telling you, Jimmy never even touched Dean."

"Yeah, he did," Dean argued. Three pairs of eyes focused avidly on him, causing a shudder down his spine.

"When?" George demanded.

"Where?" John asked, excited like it happened an hour ago.

Dean shrugged and pointed to his left cheek as his eyes dropped to his lunch.

"Jimmy still crosses to the other side of the hall if he has to pass Dean," George announced. The others made skeptical faces. "No, really. Watch him. It's true." George went back to eating his burger.

"Wow," John breathed. Dean tried to ignore the fact he was the center of attention. "Can you still fight like that?" He nudged Dean's arm.

"Nah," Dean said with a shrug.

"Nah?" George demanded. "Why not?"

Dean shrugged again. "I'm better now."

John and Billy chuckled and John shoved him in the arm again.

"That's my neighbor!" George said proudly through a mouthful of burger.

Dean concentrated on his lunch while the other guys exchanged more gossip about those damn Gunderson boys.

"But it's the little one who worries me," George said. "He's in first grade with Mikey this year."

Dean's head snapped up. "What? I thought he was starting Kindergarten."

"Nah," George replied. "His parents pulled some strings and got him into first grade early."

"Crap." Dean glanced out the windows which overlooked the elementary.

"Don't," George warned him. "You'll wind up in detention and won't be able to walk Mikey or Sam home."

"Don't what?" John asked. "Who's Mikey?"

Dean sighed, dragging his eyes from the sight of the elementary. "My baby brother."

"I thought his name was Sam?" John asked.

"There's three of 'em," George said. "Sam and Mikey are the chatterboxes."

Billy laughed. "I'd like to see that."

"Okay," George said. "Come on over."

Dean glared at George.

"What?" George demanded. "I invited them to my house, not yours. Is is my fault I live next door? Hey, we can all play football in the yard!"

The other boys agreed enthusiastically. It seemed Billy only lived a a few blocks away, even though he rode another bus home. John lived further away, but he was certain his mother wouldn't have a problem with him coming over, especially if it was to visit Dean. Dean couldn't see where it would make a difference who John wanted to visit, but he nodded his head anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

Since the login for the site has been down, I'm going to go ahead and post a couple of chapters at once!

**Chapter 11**

Dean raced to Mikey's classroom after school. Mom and Pop were already there talking to Mikey's teacher. With a breath of relief, he checked out the names taped to the other classroom desks. What was Baby Gunderson's name, anyway?

"Here you are!" Sam groused from the doorway.

Dean spun around to face Sam's grimace. Great. He was in trouble. Head hanging low, Dean approached Sam.

"Why'd you come here first?" Sam demanded. "You knew Mom and Pop were coming."

Dean nodded, unwilling to explain the fact he had been panicking since lunch. He leaned down to whisper, "There's a Gunderson in first grade."

Sam's face soured even more. "Oh, great," he mumbled sarcastically. "And with Mikey's big mouth, he's bound to get into trouble."

Oh, now that was really rich coming from Sam. Mikey had a big mouth? Well, if he did, he learned how to use it from Sam, Grand Master of the Big Mouth. How many bullies had Dean had to teach not to mess with his little brother?

"That's our older boys, Sam and Dean," Pop's voice cut through their conversation. "You'll be seeing a lot of them. Dean doesn't think his little brothers can find their way home without him."

Dean felt heat creep into his cheeks. He dropped his head so Mikey's teacher wouldn't be able to see.

"I'm Sam," Sam said with an outstretched hand to Mikey's teacher. "I'm the middle kid. Dean's my big brother."

"My big brother!" Mikey piped up, causing a shoving match between the two boys. Mom broke it up pretty quick, taking each of them by the hand.

"Well, it was very nice meeting you," Mom said in her polite voice. "And if you have any problems, please feel free to call. I'm at usually at home."

"We could use a classroom volunteer," Mikey's teacher suggested. "Someone who can come in a couple of days a week, help out during storytime. Things like that."

Mom nodded as she wrestled both boys out of the room. "I'll think about it."

Pop put a hand on Dean's shoulder to propel him out too. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too!" Mikey's teacher called out.

Outside, Pop slowed down so Mom and the boys would reach the car first. "You know Chad Gunderson is in Mikey's grade, don't you?" he asked softly.

They named him Chad? Seriously? Dean nodded back at Pop.

"You're a lot bigger than Chad, so it isn't like you can beat him up," Pop continued and Dean took it as a warning, "but I wouldn't mind if you kept an eye out for Mikey."

Dean nodded again. That was already part of the plan. He climbed over Sam to sit between the younger boys in the back seat, knowing they would fight if he didn't. When they reached the house, Sam and Mikey raced for the front door. Dean carried his and Sam's school bags into the house, the last person to go in. As usual. Pop was home early, so he closed the door behind Dean, which was nice.

He could hear Sam and Mikey upstairs, fighting already. Dean sighed and rolled his eyes as he trudged up the stairs. Well, it was the first day of school, so maybe the little kids didn't have homework.

In their room, which was always noisy and cluttered with three of them sharing the space, Dean pulled out his English notebook. First damn day of class and they had an assignment. They were supposed to write an essay about their family.

He figured it was so the teacher would have a baseline to judge their writing ability, which meant this year he had one of those fanatical English teachers who couldn't seem to understand their students had classes other than English. Freaking perfect.

"What're you doing, Dean?" Sam demanded, appearing at his elbow.

Dean might have jumped right out of his skin, except he was used to their close quarters. "English assignment," he replied, deciding maybe to start off by explaining he shared a room with his brothers.

"On the first day of school?" Sam asked, outraged. "That's stupid! Nobody gives homework on the first day!"

"When you get older they do," Dean replied, not paying much attention to how upset Sam was. He would regret that later.

"I don't like it," Sam groused. When Dean chose to work on his paper instead of concentrating on conversation, Sam sat in the window with a loud sigh. "What's it on?"

"You," Dean replied with a shrug.

"Hey!" Mikey bounced on the big bed. "What about me?"

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "You too, squirt."

"Did I tell you about my teacher, Dean?" Mikey asked, sounding real excited.

Dean glanced over quickly before leaning back over his notebook. "I met her, remember?"

"I'm gonna marry her," Mikey announced.

Dean nodded, not bothering to answer. He had already been through this with Sam. It was better just to wait it out.

"You can't marry your teacher, stupid!" Sam snapped. "She's too old."

"She won't be when I grow up," Mikey said defensively.

Sam snorted. "Stupid kids," he mumbled. "Dean? Are you expecting company?"

"Oh, crap," he hissed, jumping to his feet. Outside George was waving and hollering at his window. "Tell them I'll be right down." Dean raced for the closet to change out of his school clothes.

"I'm coming too, right?" Sam asked, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, the guys want to meet you and Mikey," Dean told him as he grabbed an old t-shirt and pulled it on over his head. He snatched old shirts for Sam and Mikey, tossing Sam's at him.

"Come on, Mikey," Dean said, reaching for Mikey's school shirt. He yanked it off and tossed it in the corner. Dean pulled the old shirt, one of Sam's hand-me-downs that reached Mikey's thighs, on the chubby little kid.

"We're coming!" Sam shouted out the window. "Keep your shirt on!"

"Your friends are pushy, Dean," Sam griped as he changed shirts. He let his school shirt drop to the floor.

Dean held the bedroom door open, motioning the younger boys out. The football, he nearly forgot! Dean snagged it off the top shelf before following his brothers downstairs.

"Mom!" Sam shouted. "We're out front!"

"Football!" Mikey shouted gleefully.

"You better not be wearing your good clothes!" Mom shouted.

"Dean already made us change!" Sam shouted back, motioning for them to hurry out the door.

Dean waved to the guys as Mikey studied them curiously. Sam walked right up to them.

"Hi, I'm Sam. Who are you?" he asked Billy.

Billy's eyes widened and he glanced over at George.

"Better tell him," George advised. "He's a major pest."

"Billy Williams," Billy said, looking at Sam like he came from another planet. Dean didn't really care for Billy looking at Sam like that.

"And you?" Sam demanded.

"Uh, I'm John. John Greyson. I've heard a lot about you," John told Sam with a smile. Dean relaxed a little. At least John was being nice. Maybe Sam just caught Billy off-guard. It wouldn't be the first time.

John dropped to one knee to look at Mikey. "How about you, kid?"

"I'm Mikey," he said boldly. "And Dean's my big brother, not yours. He always plays football with me."

Dean ruffled Mikey's hair fondly. Sweet kid.

"So, uh, are we ready to play?" Billy asked. "Me and John against Dean and George?"

"Hey!" Sam shouted. "How about me?"

"And me!" Mikey piped up. "I wanna play! Dean said I could!"

"Sam," Dean said, nodding at Billy and John.

Sam made a sour face. "I don't want to be on their team. I think we can take all of 'em, Dean."

Dean looked at Sam in disbelief.

"You, me and Mikey," Sam clarified. "We can take these losers. Especially George. He totally sucks at football."

"Hey!" George snapped and reached out to give Sam a gentle shove.

"Watch it," Sam threatened. "You don't want to go there."

George held up both hands. "You know I'm not a bully, Sam."

Dean chuckled. Well, why not? The Peavy brothers against all comers. He kind of liked that idea. "Let's play!"

Mikey might be a little kid, but he was built like a tank and could outrun any of the other guys. Sometimes he could even catch the ball. Billy tried keeping score at first, but then Sam started stealing the ball any time the older boy got the slightest bit distracted, so there was no score. If Dean really wanted to score, he would have Sam fake a hand-off to him, run the other way and let Mikey take it in for a touchdown. Nobody could touch Mikey when he had the ball.

Dean squirmed out from under Billy and John's tackle to watch George chasing Mikey all over the other end of the yard with Sam shouting out instructions. He laughed when Mikey ducked left and then right between George's legs for the touchdown. Sam had both arms up in victory.

"We win!" Sam shouted, dancing around the yard.

"I didn't think we were keeping score?" John asked as he rolled off of Dean.

"Don't argue," Dean advised. "Sam lives for arguing."

"I will remember that," Billy promised. John nodded in agreement.

"Boys!" Pop shouted from the driveway.

Dean stood and brushed the grass off his jeans.

"Time to wash up!"

Dean motioned for his brothers to come inside. Mikey trotted up to hand Dean the ball.

"Hey, Dean!" John said, moving closer. "I told my mom I was coming over here to hang out with you, not George. She doesn't really like George," he whispered. "Can I use your phone to call my mom?"

"Sure," Sam said. "Come on in. Mom won't mind."

Dean wasn't so sure about this, but he headed for the house. John followed them upstairs. They had to wash up before they were allowed to go in the kitchen, where the phone was.

"You have to wash up," Sam explained. "Mom doesn't allow dirty hands in her clean kitchen."

"Clean kitchen," Mikey echoed. "You gotta clean up."

Dean waited in the bathroom doorway, rolling his eyes at John, while Sam and Mikey fought over the sink and the soap. When the little kids were finally done washing their hands, Dean sent them into the room to change shirts. Dean politely let John wash before he washed his hands and arms up to his sleeves and then his face. Dean motioned for John to wait just a moment while he pulled his school shirt back on. Then he made sure Mikey and Sam were both wearing their school shirts from today and picked up the dirty play shirts to stuff in the hamper.

"Now?" John asked as Dean followed his younger brothers out of the room. Dean nodded, taking the steps two at a time.

"I've never had to wash my hands just to make a phone call before," John mumbled.

"Wait 'til you meet Mom," Dean whispered conspiratorially.

"Is it ready yet?" Sam demanded as he walked into the kitchen. "We're hungry!"

"Sammy!" Mom fussed. "Where are your manners?"

"I left 'em at school," Sam replied. Dean cringed. A formal lecture about proper manners usually followed when Sam acted like this.

"Samuel," Mom said heatedly as she turned around, "you know better than that. Have you been raised in a barn?" She froze midrant when she spotted John.

"Mom, this is John. He's a friend of Dean's and needs to use the phone to call his mom," Sam said grinning triumphantly, no doubt figuring he just managed to skip out on the manners lecture. The little shit. Dean had to give it to him though, Sam had guts.

"A friend of Dean's?" Mom asked, sounding really shocked. Oh, crap. He wasn't supposed to let his friends come over? Why didn't anyone tell him these things?

"Why, of course you may use the phone," Mom said quickly. "What's your name again, dear?"

"Uh, John Greyson, ma'am," John said politely. He held up his hands. "I washed up, too."

"Dean," Mom said slowly, smiling, "I think I like your friend. Such nice manners." She turned to glare at Sam. "Unlike some other people I could mention."

Sam rolled his eyes as he reached for the dinner glasses. "So is John staying for dinner?"

"John, ask your mother," Mom ordered, handing out plates for Dean and silverware for Mikey. "How was the football game?"

"Great!" Mikey bubbled. "I made the mostest points! Nobody could touch me!"

Mom nodded at him, saying, "Really? That's amazing!" She winked at Sam, like they had been letting Mikey score. It was all Dean could do not to roll his eyes at Mom, so he kept them on the table.

"I can stay," John announced with a grin as he hung up the phone. "My mom is going to pick me up in an hour and a half, if that's all right, Missus Peavy?"

"Certainly," Mom said quickly. "Do you and Dean have homework?"

"Yes," John said. "We're supposed to write an essay about our family." He sighed. "I figure I can knock mine out in about fifteen minutes."

Mom's glare leveled on Dean, he could feel it searing into the back of his neck. "Dean? Are you planning to 'knock' yours out?"

Dean shook his head quickly, straightening the forks and knives Mikey had already laid out. Sam added another place at the table for John.

"Well then," Mom said in a strong, warning voice, "perhaps after dinner you boys can work on your homework together."

"Dean already started on his, Mom," Sam argued for him. "He's not trying to rush through it."

"Dean's writing about me!" Mikey announced.

"He's writing about the whole family, doofus!" Sam snapped.

"Me first!" Mikey shouted.

"Why?" Sam demanded. "You came last!"

Mikey's eyes teared up as he glared heatedly at Sam. Dean groaned and grabbed Sam by the back of his shirt. He dragged Sam over to stand in front of Mikey. "Apologize," he growled.

"Dean!" Mom snapped. Dean yanked his hands back as if Sam were on fire. She moved to stand between Dean and his little brothers. "This is my job. You may set the dishes for dinner on the table."

Head down, Dean nodded and moved away as quickly as he could for the stove. Using oven mitts Dean carefully carried each dish to put on the table, making sure to set each one on a hot plate thingy. He listened as Mom chastised Sam before making him apologize to Mikey. She wasn't fast enough, though, because Mikey was already upset enough to cry by the time Sam finally apologized. Once Mikey got upset, well, Mom might as well give it up now. It was too late. And she did give up, turning away from mad Mikey to rearrange the dinner dishes.

The second her back was turned, Dean saw Mikey's eyes narrow on Sam. Uh-oh. Dean dashed between them to catch Mikey's hurtling body, which knocked the air out of his chest. With a glance over his shoulder, Dean checked to make sure Mom hadn't seen. She was still fussing with the dinner table. He clutched Mikey to his chest and hustled his baby brother out of the kitchen.

Once they were in the den, out of sight, Dean kneeled down to look Mikey in the eye. "Come on, dude. Don't forget our plan."

Mikey glared daggers at the kitchen door. "I wanna shave his head."

"Shave his head?"

Startled, Dean spun around on his knee. John stood right behind him. "Man, if you think I'm hanging out with your mother, you better think again. Where you go, I go."

Dean nodded, turning back to face Mikey. "Mom'll kill us," he whispered.

Mikey glared at the door again. "It would be worth it."

Dean chuckled. "I know where the pink dye from Halloween is."

Mikey's eyes lit up. "Tonight?" he demanded.

"Tonight," Dean promised.

"Can you do it this weekend?" John asked from over his shoulder.

"Why?" Mikey demanded, rubbing away his tears.

"Because I'll ask my mom if I can sleep over. I'd love to get in on this!" he whispered.

Mikey glared at Dean. "Tonight."

John sighed. "Rats. Your house is much more fun than mine." John bumped him in the back. "Hey, think I can sleep-over anyway? We'd have a blast."

Dean's heart pounded in his chest. What would happen if the guys at school found out he shared a bed with his little brother? Or that he woke up screaming from his nightmares? Oh, man, as if he weren't already enough of an out-sider.

"Have to ask Mom," Mikey said. "She usually says there are already enough kids sleeping in this house."

"I'm gonna ask," John announced. He glanced down at Dean, who clutched Mikey's arm in one hand to keep from falling over. "You do know nobody sleeps during a sleep-over, right?" he whispered. "We're supposed to stay up all night playing games and tricks on each other."

Dean relaxed his grip on Mikey. Okay, that he could handle!

"Boys!" Mom called out, her voice an unignorable blast through the house. "Supper's ready!"

Now Dean heard Pop's heavy steps pounding in the downstairs hall. "You heard Mom," he announced. Pop paused when he spotted John. "Who's this?"

"John," Dean said simply, inclining his head at his friend.

"Dean and I share most of our classes," John said. "Last year and this year."

"Oh, you're the one Dean eats lunch with?" Pop asked.

"Yeah," John replied. "Me and Billy Williams. Looks like George from next door may be horning in on our table this year."

Dean chuckled and nodded his head.

"Sounds like George," Pop said. "So is John staying for dinner?"

Dean might have answered, but the question was directed at Mikey. He turned to see if Mikey would answer.

Mikey made a face at Pop. "Ask Dean," he said slowly, "it's his friend." He rolled his eyes before going back into the kitchen.

Pop cleared his throat, kind of nervous. "Dean? Is your friend staying for dinner?"

"Yes, sir," Dean said.

"Well, then, let's go." Pop held open the door for them and waved them through.

Dean directed his younger brothers to let John sit next to him, which meant Sam and Mikey had to sit beside each other on the other side of the table. Well, this should be good. John sat beside him and waited politely to see what he was supposed to do. Pop said a few words about them being thankful for this food. When he was done, Sam slapped a spoonful of mashed potatoes on his plate while Mikey make a grab for the rolls. Dean waited until his younger brothers' plates were full before offering the bowl of potatoes to John.

"Thanks, Dean," John said as he glopped some on his plate. The rolls were closer to John, so he offered them to Dean. Dean took a couple before nodding his thanks.

"Dean?" Mom said in her 'you screwed up again' voice. "What do you say?"

Ouch. Yeah, make him look like a moron in front of one of the few guys willing to hang out with him.

"Thanks," Dean mumbled, head down and cheeks burning.

"You know," John said and his voice sounded kind of odd, not like his usual joking self. "Dean is one of my best friends. We sit next to each other in almost every class we have together."

Mom perked up a little. "Really? Well, that's very nice, dear."

John's voice went positively cold now. "And he's never been rude to me. Ever."

Mom frowned at John. "Well, John, you might have noticed Dean resists speaking, since you're such good friends."

Oh, why wouldn't the ground just open up and swallow him whole? Being crushed to death by tons of rock and hot lava would be better than having to endure this.

"So we encourage Dean to speak," Mom finished.

"Really? Gee, I never noticed." John turned to him. "So how are you planning to start your paper, Dean?"

What the hell? What was John trying to do? Dean lifted his head just enough to glance at Sam and Mikey before picking up his fork.

John chuckled. "Don't blame you," he said, also digging in to his food. "Plenty of material there."

Dean shrugged one shoulder, tilting his head. John shoved him in the arm, his usual cue to lift his head. On automatic, Dean looked over at John to find a grin on his friend's face.

"I get the unedited version, right?" John asked, clearly referring to the prank he and Mikey had planned. Dean could not believe John was handling this so well. He grinned back.

"Good," John replied with a nod. "I cannot believe we have homework on the first day. You'd think we would have heard this about Miss Nevins last year."

"It's good to start the year off right," Mom interrupted. "I like teachers who give homework the first week."

Sam snorted loud, rolling his eyes. Dean shot his brother a warning look not to cross Mom. He didn't want to hear it. John bumped his knee under the table. Dean glanced over to see his friend roll his eyes, but John was a little more subtle than Sam so he doubted Mom or Pop noticed. Dean relaxed and motioned for Sam to pass the butter.

"Mikey?" Pop asked. "How was your first day?"

Relieved the pressure was off, Dean settled down to eating. He and John passed food back and forth until they had eaten at least one helping of everything and two or three of some. Stuffed, Dean waited patiently for Sam or Mikey to ask for them to be excused.

"Missus Peavy?" John asked. "Can Dean and I be excused to work on our assignment?"

Mom appeared startled for a moment before she nodded. "Certainly," she said, sounding kind of stiff. "I'll let you know when your mother arrives, John."

They escaped up the stairs before Sam and Mikey finished eating. John let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Man, if I had to live here, I don't think I'd talk much either. Your mom is tough, man!" John motioned downstairs. "Is she always like that?"

"Pretty much," Dean replied. "Your mom isn't?"

"Uh, no," John said. "And at my house you wouldn't have to wash your hands just to use the phone. That's weird. I'm talking really weird." John held his hands up. "I mean like big flashing neon sign weird."

Dean stopped and turned slowly to face John. "That's my mom," he said slowly. "Don't talk about her like that."

"Oh, come on!" John snapped, clearly frustrated. "You can't defend her! I mean, what with the way she talks to you!"

"Enough!" Dean shoved John away from him. "Shut up!"

"Whoa, whoa." John held up both hands, his voice softer now. "Man, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to upset you."

"Just..." Words never came easily for Dean. Sometimes he envied the way his brothers could just talk nonstop. "Don't."

"I won't. I swear." John's eyes searched his face. "Are we okay?"

Dean was breathing kind of hard. He turned away to find his notebook with the beginning of his essay. He dropped down to sit on the edge of his bed with a bounce, eyes glued to the paper in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Dean. Really." Dean couldn't look at him, not right now. Not until he could breathe normally again. "Hey, Dean? Do you remember last year when I stepped on that full milk carton? Fell right on my ass, milk everywhere?"

The image of John falling and the milk squirting across the floor leapt into his mind and Dean snorted a chuckle, nodding his head.

"Everybody laughed at me, even you. Right?" John asked.

Well, yeah. Dean shrugged, still not looking John in the face.

"But afterwards, you were the only person to offer me a hand up. You were still laughing at me, but you wanted to help. Right?" He felt John sit next to him. "Sometimes when a friend wants to help, they can screw up. Laughing at the wrong thing or at the wrong time. Going off about his buddy's mom." John nudged his shoulder. "I forgave you."

Oh, man. Low blow. Dean took in a deep breath before lifting his head. He studied John for a long moment before he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, okay."

"Yeah?" John asked, his familiar grin and teasing tone back. "So I'm forgiven?"

"For what?" Sam demanded from the doorway. "What did you do?" He marched over to stand in front of John. "I had a bad feeling about you."

"Sammy..." Dean warned.

"But you could've warned me about him," John said pointing to Sam. "This kid is something else."

"Try living with him," Dean groused.

"Hey!" Sam stomped his foot. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Language," Dean warned.

Sam rolled his eyes dramatically. "I want to know what he did, Dean."

"Nuthin'," Dean replied with a shrug. "Homework time, Sam."

Sam glared at both of them before turning around. "You heard him, brat," he said to Mikey who was standing in the doorway. "Let's go play downstairs."

"I am not a brat!" Mikey stomped his foot. "And I don't want to play with you." Mikey pounded his feet against the floor as he came into the room. He plopped down on the floor by Dean's feet. "I'll wait," he announced.

John grinned at he glanced between Sam and Mikey. "This is great," he whispered. Dean gave him an odd look. "I'm an only child."

"Ah," Dean replied with a nod. "No wonder you don't have much to write about."

John chuckled. "Maybe I could make up a little sister or something."

"Got a dog?" Mikey asked. "You could write about your dog."

"Two dogs, a cat, a lizard and a bird," John told him.

Mikey's eyes went really wide. "Whoa," he said softly. "That's like your own zoo!" His gaze shifted over to Dean. "Can I go see it, Dean? Can I?"

Dean shot his baby brother a glare. "You haven't been invited."

"Ah, that's fine," John said with a wave of his hand. "You and your brothers are welcome over any time, Dean."

"Only if Mom says so," Sam said from his position at the door. "And you know she won't let us unless I ask."

"Why you?" John asked.

Sam glared at John. "It's not like Dean's gonna ask."

"Paper," Dean reminded them. If he didn't have at least a page before John's mother arrived, Mom would send him back up here alone to work on it.

"Five bucks," John said. Dean's eyes snapped up.

Sam grinned. "You're on."

Oh, Sam was working on getting a head full of pink hair instead of just a stripe.

"Let's see it," John insisted.

Mikey made a nasty face at the two of them before getting to his feet and leaving the room. Briefly, Dean wondered what he was up to, but the sheer horror of the bet going down in front of him overpowered his curiosity.

Sam went into the closet and closed the door behind him. Dean and John exchanged shrugs as they waited for the door to open. When Sam came out, he triumphantly held a five dollar bill in his hand.

"Show me yours," Sam demanded.

John rooted around in his pockets before coming up with some crumpled dollar bills. "Three...four..." he mumbled as he counted them up. "Ah, ha! Five!" John slapped five dollar bills down on the bed.

Sam placed his on top of the pile. "You're on."

"Dean?" Mom called from outside the room. Dean stiffened. Ah, crap. She peered into their room. "How's the homework coming?"

He looked down at the only partially written page in his hand. He didn't have a whole page yet, people kept interrupting! How was he supposed to work with everybody interrupting?

"Sam, you and Mikey go on downstairs. You're bothering the older boys. They have homework," Mom said sternly. "Move!"

Sam sighed dramatically as he left the room. At the doorway, he turned to eye the money still on the bed. "Uh, can I walk downstairs with you, Mom?"

"No. Now go," Mom ordered. "And no cop shows!" she shouted as the kids stomped down the stairs.

When they couldn't hear Sam or Mikey any more, Mom turned back to them. "Dean?" she asked quietly. "You can do that downstairs after John leaves, if you like." Mom nodded at his homework. "Was there something you'd like to ask me?"

Dean's throat went dry and his hands shook, but he felt John nudging him in the side. "Can we go to John's?" he whispered.

Mom's face lit up. "I'll talk to his mother when she arrives and set up a day. Did you want to go alone or take your brothers?"

Dean nodded at the hall.

"All right," Mom said quickly. "Maybe I can drive you all over there." She gave them a huge smile. "Sounds like fun!" Mom backed out of the room. "Well, I'll call you boys when John's mother arrives."

John stuffed the cash in his pocket before he grabbed Dean's notebook to toss aside.

"Hey!" Dean protested.

"Weren't you listening?" John demanded with a grin. "Your mom said you could do your homework later, after I leave. So. What cool stuff do you have?"

Dean had to chuckle at his friend's enthusiasm. "I can set up the crash cars. They're Sam's and Mikey's favorite."

"So?" John asked, head leaning over to one side.

Dean grinned. "Just watch," he whispered as he headed for the closet. After he had the track set up, Dean opened the bedroom door. "Ask me something about crash cars," he whispered.

"What's the big deal with crash cars?" John said, kind of loud.

Dean was rewarded with pounding steps racing up the stairs. He stood aside out of the way as Mikey and Sam wrestled each other into the room.

"I get the red one!" Mikey shouted.

"You got it last time!" Sam shouted back, shoving Mikey away.

"Hey!" Dean snapped, grabbing Sam. "Stop it."

"But-but he..." Sam groaned as Mikey swooped in to grab the red car. "He got the red one!"

"Blue one works," Dean pointed out. He shoved Sam towards the track. "Go on."

Sam rolled his eyes as he kneeled down to play. Dean jumped on to the bed for a better view. John sat next to him.

"Now what?" John whispered.

Dean nodded at his little brothers. Almost immediately, Sam and Mikey started bickering and shoving each other. This was one of Dean's favorite forms of entertainment. Sam and Mikey were freaking hysterical when they played together, the way they hassled and taunted each other.

"Okay," John hissed after a while. "I see what you mean."

Dean grinned at his friend briefly before returning his attention to the younger kids. Actually, watching Sam and Mikey with someone else was kind of fun too.

"John's mother is here!" Mom's voice carried clearly upstairs, easily slicing through Sam and Mikey's fun.

"Walk me down," John said with a shove to Dean's shoulder. He grabbed his school bag before heading downstairs. Dean followed silently, feeling an odd relief over his friend finally going home. Now things could go back to normal.

Mom and John's mother, a pretty lady with long blond hair, were discussing a day they could all come over.

"I wanna see the zoo!" Mikey said excitedly. "Is it true? Does John have a real live lizard? And a bird?"

John's mother smiled down at Mikey. "Yes, he does. And what's your name?"

"I'm Mikey!" He wrapped an arm around Dean's thigh. "Dean's my big brother."

Sam rolled his eyes as he leaned against Dean on the other side. "He's the baby," Sam said disdainfully. "I'm Sam."

"And it's very nice to meet you, too, Sam. Well, I had no idea there were three of you." She looked at Mom. "Just the three, right?"

Mom laughed. "Absolutely. We can barely handle them."

Oh, crap. Dean looked down, away from the adults. Yeah, he was a burden. He knew that. Nobody asked for him or wanted him, he was just dumped here. Mom and Pop were real nice to act like he belonged, but Dean knew better. Maybe someday he would figure out how to fit in here.

"Friday, then," Mom said. "I know the boys will be looking forward to it. It was so nice meeting you!"

"You too! Bye!"

John and his mother were gone. Dean let out the breath he had been holding. That went better than he could have dreamed.

"Dean? Do you want to work on your paper upstairs or in the kitchen? I still need to clean up the dinner dishes, if you'd like company," Mom said briskly.

Dean watched her walk away toward the kitchen. Really? Do his homework in the same room with Mom? Was that a good thing, or was he being punished? Unwilling to push his luck, Dean ran upstairs to retrieve his notebook. When he reached the kitchen table, he was out of breath. Mom had the water in the sink running to rinse off the dishes before they went in the dishwasher.

Well, maybe she could use a little help. Dean set his notebook down to carry the dirty plates from the table over to the sink. Without looking directly at her, Dean handed over the plates. After Mom took them, Dean went back for more. They didn't say anything to each other, Dean bringing her dirty dishes and Mom rinsing them to stack into the dishwasher. It was kind of nice. Dean imagined if his mother, the first one, were still alive they might do stuff like this. Sometimes he tried to pretend Mom was his real mom, the one who wanted him. Sometimes he even managed to convince himself Mom was just as good, but then he felt horribly guilty and he wasn't sure why.

"That's it," Mom said. "Go work on your paper at the table."

Dean headed back to the table, expecting Mom to wipe down all the counters before going out to the den to watch television with Pop. Instead she sat down at the table across from him.

"How's it going?" Mom asked. Dean glanced up quickly, wondering if she wanted to check his spelling so soon. "The paper. Any problems?"

Dean looked back down and shrugged. He shoved his notebook across the table to Mom. She picked it up. Her eyes moved side to side as she read it. Then her lips pursed as she set it back down on the table.

"Dean? You know, you don't have to..." Mom chewed on her lower lip. "Uh, the boys, they don't know you're adopted," she whispered. "You don't have to put it in your paper, unless you want to."

Dean couldn't help his stare. They didn't know? How could they not know? "Sam?" he asked weakly. He and Sam were brothers before Mom and Pop adopted them. Surely Sam knew!

Mom shook her head. "He was too little to remember, Dean. Sammy was just a baby." Mom sighed. "But I'll tell him if you want me to."

Dean shook his head. Hard. No. No way. Sam did NOT need to know. He did NOT need to feel like he had to be on his best behavior all the time so he could stay. Besides, didn't Mom and Pop like Sam? Why would they want him to know?

"Dean! Dean!"

He was still shaking his head only now Mom stood beside him, holding him against her. Dean guessed she was trying to make him stop, so he froze. Now he could hear how hard he was breathing and feel Mom's hand rubbing his shoulder and down his arm.

"It's all right, Dean," Mom was saying in such a nice voice that he wanted to believe her, he really did. "We won't tell him. I promise. We won't."

Dean felt his heart slow and his breathing return to something close to normal. For a moment, just one little, tiny second, he leaned into Mom's embrace and allowed himself to feel safe. It was so nice and felt so good, Dean did not want it to end.

"Dean!" The kitchen door slammed open and Sam strode in. "What's going on?" he demanded. "That John kid said something, didn't he? I'm calling his mother."

Dean sighed as he pulled away from Mom. Leave it to Sam to ruin a nice moment.

"Sammy, why aren't you watching television with your brother?" Mom asked as she sat next to Dean at the table.

"He wants to watch something stupid with Pop," Sam said in a hard voice. "What's wrong with Dean?"

"Nothing," Mom said quickly. "Dean has homework and doesn't need you and Mikey bothering him. So go on." She waved Sam away.

Sam gave Dean a lingering look before he left which meant they were having a long, long talk later. Oh, great. Just what he didn't want. Dean returned his attention to his notebook. He tore out the page he had been working on to start over. This time Dean omitted the part about Mom and Pop adopting him, which was a huge relief. Now Dean added in the fact he shared a room with his little brothers, so he could keep an eye on them and keep them out of danger at night. He liked that part. With a grin, Dean wrote about how funny his brothers were when they played with the crash car set.

"Can I see?" Mom asked with a smile.

Dean shrugged as he pushed his notebook over. Mom giggled when she read the last part. "Can I come watch them play with the cars sometime? You make it sound like fun."

Dean stared at Mom for a long moment before nodding slowly.

"Good." She ruffled his hair, the way she usually did with Sam and Mikey. "Why don't you write a conclusion so you can go play a little before bed?"

Dean shrugged as his eyes dropped back to his paper. He chewed on his eraser as he thought about a conclusion. When he wrote it, it was only a couple of sentences, but it seemed like enough.

"Okay?" he asked as he pushed it to Mom.

Mom made a funny noise before clearing her throat. "It's fine," she said in an odd voice. "I'll look it over for spelling mistakes. Go play with your brothers."

Dean hopped up from the table to dash into the den. He wondered why Mom sounded so strange, but at least his homework was finished! Without stopping, Dean charged through the den towards the stairs. He heard his little brothers chasing him up with joyful shouts. Playtime!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Mike chuckled at the boys dashing upstairs. His wife hadn't come out of the kitchen, though. Ah, hell. Mike stood slowly, his lower back aching from hours leaning over a customer's engine. He rubbed his back with one hand as he pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. Kate sat at the table, her head down on her arms.

"Honey?" Mike asked, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

Kate's head lifted to reveal a tear-streaked face. She held up a spiral notebook. With a frown, Mike took it. He sat in the chair next to his wife as he read how much Dean liked sharing a room with his little brothers. The conclusion was short, but somewhat disturbing.

_Because Mom and Pop let me share a room with my brothers, I can protect them at night. It's really nice of our parents not to make me sleep in a different room and I love them for it._

"Well," Mike said slowly, "at least he loves us."

Fresh tears streaked down Kate's cheeks. "Because we let him do too much?" she whispered, her words forced and choked.

Mike sighed as he pulled her into a tight hug. "We'll talk to the therapist about it this week. Okay?"

Kate nodded against his chest. Was she taking lessons from Dean now? Oh, well. Mike held her close until she settled down. When they tucked the boys in, after Sammy said they were allowed in the room, Kate ruffled Dean's hair. Dean did not like to be touched, so they typically did not display their affection for him, but tonight Dean did not shirk away or cringe. Encouraged, Mike did the same and Dean grinned as he settled under the covers. Wow. That was amazing!

* * *

Mikey was so excited he couldn't possibly sleep. It was hard to even pretend to sleep! But finally, finally, finally, he thought Sam was probably asleep.

"Dean?" he whispered.

"Now," Dean whispered back.

Mikey jumped out of bed as quietly as he could. He couldn't stand still while Dean crawled slowly out of bed. They sneaked downstairs to the extra bathroom. Dean looked under the sink cabinet, moving stuff around. He turned to face Mikey with a triumphant grin and a bottle of pink dye in one hand. Yes!

Mikey followed his awesome big brother back upstairs. They very, very carefully used a cotton ball to paint a pink stripe in Sam's bangs. Oh, this was going to be sooooo sweet! Dean hid the dye in the closet before going back to bed.

"Night, Mikey," Dean whispered. "Feel better?"

"You betcha," he whispered to his big brother. "Thanks, Dean."

When Sam got up in the morning and screamed at his reflection in the mirror, it was SO worth it! And all Pop said was "Boys will be boys." So they got away with it too! Sam came down to breakfast with a hunk of hair missing right in front. Mom gave him a funny look, like she wanted to ask why Sam cut his hair, but Pop shook his head so she didn't. Dean kept chuckling and watching Sammy all through breakfast. This was the best day ever!

* * *

Dean groaned over the fact Sam was insisting on meeting his English teacher. The kid just did not know how to take 'no' for an answer! Dean knew this game, Sam would continue to pester the everliving daylights out of him until he caved. It was probably easier just to get it over with now. Plus, with that hunk of missing hair in the front, Dean was having a real hard time saying no anyway.

Sam made an excuse to leave early with Dean. Dean checked his watch. If Sam didn't take too long with his teacher, he would have time to walk Sam back to the elementary before his first class. They hurried to the middle school. Dean led Sam through the confusing hallways to his English classroom. Honestly, he had no idea if his teacher would even be there, but if they didn't try there was no way Sammy would shut up about it.

Crap. She was there. Sam marched right up to her desk and cleared his throat. Miss Nevins looked up and glanced between Sam and Dean.

"Can I help you?" she asked, sounding a little curious.

"I'm Sam," Sam said in a firm voice. "Dean is my big brother."

Dean rolled his eyes. Sam and Mikey always did this. They were never his little brother, he was always the big brother. He liked to pretend it annoyed him, so they would keep doing it.

"Well," she said slowly, "it's nice to meet you, Sam. Is there a purpose for this visit?"

"Yes." Sam stood right in front of her to look her in the eye. Sheesh, Sam had some guts! "You gave Dean homework on the first day of school."

Miss Nevins nodded at him. "Yes, I did. And if you're in my class in a few years, I'll do the same for you."

Sam scowled. "I don't like teachers picking on Dean. You should stop it."

She stared at Sam long enough to make Dean nervous. "Sam. I am not picking on your brother. This is the way I teach my class." Miss Nevins smiled as her attention shifted to Dean. "Do you have your paper, Dean?"

Dean nodded as he reached into his bag. He pulled out the paper on his family to hand over while Sam scowled.

"I have a feeling I am going to enjoy this. Dean, you'd better take your little brother over to the elementary before you're late for class," she told him.

Dean ran a hand affectionately over Sammy's head as they left his school. He had the best damn brothers in the world.

* * *

"But he let us touch him," Mike argued with Dean's therapist. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Well certainly," Doctor Collins said, "but for such a young boy to think he has so much responsibility can not be healthy. What if he were to perceive failure on his part? Do you realize how severely it could set him back?"

Mike looked to his wife for some support, but Kate seemed to be listening to the therapist intently. Damn it.

"I don't want to tell him," Kate finally said. "This paper was the first time he said he loved us."

"Then I'll talk to him," Doctor Collins said. "Send him in."

* * *

Sam waited anxiously in the waiting room for his big brother. He hated doctor day. He really, really, really hated doctor day. Mom and Pop kept telling him it was necessary, that the doctor was helping Dean. Sam didn't see it. Besides, if Dean didn't have a good reaction today, Sam wouldn't be able to play a prank on him tonight to get even for the pink stripe in his hair.

Finally the big hand on the clock pointed straight up. Sam turned his attention to the door. Any second now Dean should be walking out. When it opened, Sam jumped to his feet. Dean, head downcast with slow, shuffling steps, walked out.

Damn it! Sam wished he could get this stupid doctor's mother's phone number so he could tell on the asshole. Who in their right minds would tell Dean anything to make him act like this?

Sam rushed to his brother's side to grasp Dean's arm. Almost instantly, Dean shook him off. Dean shook him off? What the hell was going on here? Sam grabbed Dean's hand, tight.

"Don't you do that," Sam said sternly in a quiet voice while Pop and Mom talked to the doctor. "Don't you dare."

Dean sniffled and ran a hand under his nose, not even looking at Sam. Mikey stood off to the side. Sam jerked his head at the little kid. Mikey knew just what to do, he grabbed Dean's other hand and held on for dear life. Sam hadn't seen Dean quite this bad before and it scared him.

The whole ride home Dean did not lift his head one time. Mom kept looking back at them with worried eyes. Sam didn't blame her, he felt pretty much the exact same way. When they arrived at home, Sam and Mikey dragged Dean upstairs.

"What did he say?" Sam demanded, rounding on Dean. Granted, threatening Dean rarely got him anywhere, but he was more than a little freaked out at the moment.

Dean sat on the corner of the bed and shook his head. Not talking, not even to him? Oh, this was just freaking perfect! Sam wanted that stupid doctor's mother's number more than ever. What kind of asshole took a job where he got to harass kids like this?

"Dean?" Mikey said, climbing into Dean's lap. "Are you mad at me?"

Now Dean's head did lift, and he appeared startled. Oh, good. At least Mikey got a reaction. Dean shook his head slowly.

"How about me?" Sam demanded, leaning on Dean's knees behind Mikey. "Are you mad at me?"

Dean's head shook slowly again. Sam let out the breath he had been holding.

"Then don't scare me like that," he snapped. "What's wrong? What did that asshole tell you?"

Dean's head dropped again and he shrugged. Little Mikey made a nasty face. Right in front of Sam's amazed eyes, Mikey slugged Dean in the shoulder. Dean's head snapped up, some of the Dean they saw when they played football coming out.

"Stop that!" Mikey admonished, shaking his finger in Dean's face. "Tell us what the asshole said!"

"That..." Dean dragged in a deep breath. "I'm too old to share a room with you two."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Mom! Pop!" he shouted at the top of his voice.

Heavy steps on the stairs told him their parents had been waiting to be called. "What?" Pop asked as he threw open the door. "What is it?" He kept looking from them to the window for some strange reason.

"Are you planning to make Dean move out of our room?" Sam demanded, hands on his hips as he glared at his parents. He hoped they got the message from the way he was glaring.

"Uh, well..." Mom said slowly. "The doctor thinks it would be a good idea, but – uh..."

"No," Pop said. "We're not." It was funny, but Pop was looking at the window and not at Dean. "Definitely not. Right Mom?"

Mom's gaze went to the window too as she shook her head. "No. We're not."

Dean sighed and his eyes closed as his shoulders slumped. Mikey leaned his head on Dean's shoulder and Sam was relieved to see Dean put an arm around their baby brother. This was much better than shaking them off.

"Why don't you boys go outside and play for a while? Dinner won't be ready for at least half an hour," Mom said quickly.

"Yeah," Sam chimed in. "Come on, Dean. Mikey needs to practice that new move you taught him. Ready?" He grabbed Dean's football off the top shelf.

"Come on, Dean." Mikey hopped down to grab Dean by the hand. He tugged and tugged until Dean finally stood up.

"Catch." Sam barely gave any warning before throwing the ball hard at Dean's stomach. Dean had awesome reflexes, though, and caught it.

"Sam!" Mom snapped. Sam glared back at her. He had half a mind to tell her exactly what he thought of these stupid therapists, but he didn't want to make her mad either. Mom could be a little scary when she was really mad. Sam knew she could scare Dean like nothing else could, and Dean was clearly freaked out enough.

"Outside!" Mom ordered, pointing down the stairs.

Sam waited at the door to follow his brothers outside. When he was halfway down the stairs, Sam looked back at their parents. It was really weird, but Mom and Pop looked about as freaked out as he felt. What they needed was a really good, really intense game of football.

* * *

"He's fired," Kate said, her voice quivering with rage. It had been years since she had seen Dean this withdrawn.

"We're running out of therapists," Mike said softly.

"I don't care!" Kate snapped. "I'll drive him to the next town if I have to. We will undo whatever the hell his father and this idiot did to him. We will." They had to. They had to fix Dean. God, he had been doing so much better and the freaking therapist screwed it up? Maybe they should sue him, too.

Mike's hands rested on her shoulders. "I don't think he's broken, honey," he said softly. "Maybe he just needs a little space."

She shook her head. "No. He needs help. We're going to help him." Kate reached back to grab his hand and hold on tight. "What kind of parents would we be if we couldn't help him?"

"Normal?" Mike asked. She felt his cheek press against hers as he leaned forward against her back.

Kate felt the tears brimming as she held tighter to his hand. "We have to do better than that," she whispered, unable to put more force in her voice.

"Okay, honey," Mike said in his soothing voice, the one she knew was supposed to calm her down. Oddly, it usually worked even though she knew what he was doing. "We'll find a new therapist. I promise." A strong arm wound around her waist. "But let's worry about it tomorrow, huh? Or maybe next week. I think maybe today Dean needs some time to play and be a kid."

Kate nodded, leaning back into her husband. She rested there for a long moment, until she heard one of the boys shouting from outside.

"I better fix dinner," she said, reluctantly pulling away from Mike.

"I was thinking about going outside to throw the ball around a little. What do you think?" Mike asked her.

Kate sighed, turning around to face him. "Honestly? I have no idea what to think. Or do. Or anything!" she shouted, throwing her arms up in the air.

Mike reached her in two quick steps to embrace her in an all-encompassing bear hug. Kate sagged in his arms wanting someone else to carry the burden, at least for a little while.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Dean took his lunch tray outside so he could sit by himself today. The last thing he wanted was to sit by anyone who expected him to speak. His English teacher actually liked his stupid paper, Dean couldn't believe it. His face had burned hot when she said something about it in front of the class and the ground had regrettably not swallowed him whole. He did make an 'A' so maybe Mom would be happy.

Now Dean found a nice shady spot by himself where he had a good view of the elementary. He didn't really want to eat, but if Mom found out he skipped lunch he'd probably be in trouble. Then again, if he was in trouble, he might not be allowed to go to John's house tomorrow. Dean set his tray aside, wondering what his brothers were doing right now.

"There you are!" John said cheerfully, standing over him. He sunk down to sit next to Dean. "Oh, it's one of those days, huh?" John shrugged, picking up his burger. "That's okay," he said through a mouthful of food, "I can do all the talking."

Dean hung his head. Crap. Why couldn't John just leave him alone? Why did John, who was normal and could make friends with anybody, want to be around a loser like him anyway?

"Know what I heard?" John asked, leaning against the wall next to Dean. "Jimmy Gunderson is planning on walking his little brother home from school today." He pointed to the elementary. "That brother. Something about taking care of a big mouth."

Dean lifted his head to see if John was serious. If he was, both Sam and Mikey could be in danger.

"Yeah, I thought that might get your attention. Want some company, or at least an eyewitness?" John grinned at him. "I'm pretty sure my mom won't have a problem picking me up from your house again."

Dean chewed his lower lip, considering it. These were his brothers they were talking about and both kids had some big mouths on them. There was no telling which one Jimmy was after, but Mikey had a Gunderson in the same grade.

"You take Sam," he finally said, meeting John's gaze.

John smiled at him. "No problem. Third grade, right?" Dean nodded. "I'll find him," John promised.

Dean knew if it was true, Jimmy would have to go to the first grade wing. He wanted to be sure he was the one to see Jimmy first, not either of his brothers or John.

"Where do you want us to meet you? Front office? Or in the playground?" John asked.

Dean sighed. The front office would be safer, but if Jimmy really wanted a fight Dean intended to finish it. "Playground," he told his friend.

John nodded slowly. "Better eat," he said after a pause. "Need to keep your strength up."

Dean picked up his cooling burger. He barely tasted it as he ate, staring across the field at the one story building. Well, at least he had something to look forward to after school today. And if he did get into a fight, there was no way Mom would let them go to John's house, so technically it was a win-win situation. Assuming he won, that is. Jimmy was a lot bigger now than he was two years ago. A lot bigger. They might be having his funeral tomorrow. He shoved the rest of his burger in his mouth. He needed all the strength he could get.

"Come on," John said with a nudge to his arm. "Bell."

Dean followed John to dump his tray off before going to class. It was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

John was following him so close he kept jostling Dean's arm as they walked over to the elementary. It was all Dean could do not to run flat out for Mikey's classroom. Dean went through the side doors, his usual route. He waved John off when they reached the third grade so he could go directly for Mikey.

It was a good thing, too, Dean decided as he rounded the corner for the first grade. Jimmy must have run the whole way here to be standing outside Mikey's classroom with that stupid grin on his face as he lounged against the wall. Dean glared hard at the enemy as he walked slowly to the doorway of Mikey's room.

"Dean!" Mikey shouted. The chubby kid bolted from the room to slam full force into Dean's side. He stumbled as he absorbed the impact of Mikey's assault.

Jimmy snorted at them. "Looks like the real Peavy takes after his loser brother. Poor kid."

Another boy, about Mikey's size but with a really fat face and neck, stepped out from behind Jimmy. "Losers!" he said with a nasty laugh.

Well, at least he wasn't bigger than Mikey. Dean shoved Mikey away from the Gundersons to walk down the hall.

"Dean?" Mikey asked, turning around to walk backwards and bump into other kids. "What's going on?"

Dean shrugged before reaching out to spin his baby brother around. One hand firmly planted on Mikey's back, Dean steered him out one of the back doors to the playground. John and Sam were waiting for them by the swings and Sam did not look happy. Yeah, he was probably overdue for a chewing out anyway.

Sam marched up to him with John close on his heels. "Dean," Sam demanded, "what the hell is..." Sam's face darkened and he glared just past Dean's right shoulder. John had an odd look on his face, one Dean couldn't identify, so it couldn't be good.

Dean shoved Mikey to the left and toward Sam, figuring the danger had to be coming from his right. Then he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder, hard enough to send him face first into the dirt. Oh, thank God, Jimmy started it first. Now he wouldn't be in trouble.

Grinning over the fact things were finally going his way, Dean rolled over. Jimmy's foot was in the air, ready to pound down into Dean's abdomen. Dean caught it with his hands and thrust up, hard. It caught Jimmy off guard, sending him crashing down on his ass. Dean barely heard the kids around them cheering as he stood up.

Jimmy scrambled to his feet, his face red. He took the time to dust himself off, like it was going to be his last time in the dirt. As if. Dean wasn't about to waste any energy or distract himself by doing the same. Jimmy gave him a nasty glare as he made fists with both hands.

Dean shook out his shoulders and rolled his head, loosening up. He heard both Sam's and Mikey's voices shouting something, but they did not sound upset so Dean spared no attention for them. Focusing solely on Jimmy, Dean moved slowly to keep Jimmy in front of him. Jimmy jabbed out with a few experimental punches. Once Dean figured out what Jimmy was doing, he didn't dodge the ones on his left as quickly as the ones on the right. This way Jimmy would think he was slower and weaker on the left side. He took a couple of blows to the face on his left, one hard enough to make him stumble.

Jimmy grinned. "Got your number now, Peavy," he said with a sneer. "You don't even deserve to be called a lousy Peavy, you know."

Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Dean couldn't wait to lay this guy out. He didn't need to hear what he already knew.

As expected, Jimmy came in hard on his right first. Dean figured he would switch to the left the instant he realized he couldn't get past Dean's defenses. Too bad for Jimmy, because he was a little stronger on the left. Jimmy's body shifted subtly to come in on Dean's left, which Dean had been intentionally leaving open. Once Jimmy took the bait, Dean trapped his opponent's arm under his and went to work on Jimmy's body. God it felt good to pound the living daylights out of someone who deserved it.

Now Jimmy was under him, on the ground. Dean continued to whale on the bigger boy, even after his hands were covered with blood from Jimmy's busted nose. He heard cries and a voice begging him to stop, but Dean couldn't stop. Not now. All his pain and fear, it welled up and poured out through his fists, into Jimmy. This bastard wanted to hurt his brother! Dean wanted to hurt Jimmy so bad he'd never even think about looking at Sam or Mikey again.

Now someone was pulling him away and adults moved between him and Jimmy. Dean broke free with the intent of going after Jimmy again, but both Sam and Mikey rushed to stand in his way. Sam had both hands up, waving him back.

"It's all right, Dean," Sam said calmly as he walked closer. "Breathe, Dean."

A hand reached for Sam's arm, drawing Dean's gaze. It was an adult, one of the elementary teachers. Dean narrowed his eyes on her until her hand dropped away.

"Dean would never hurt me," Sam told her, waving her away. Then Sam faced him again. "Dean? Can you hear me?"

Dean nodded slowly, still glaring at the teacher.

"Dean, I want you to look at me," Sam said. Dean didn't want to, the teacher could be a threat. "Now, Dean. Right here."

He never could disobey that tone. Dean's eyes dropped back to his little brother.

"That's better," Sam told him with a smile. "Come here."

Knowing what was coming, Dean took the three steps to stand in front of Sam and braced himself. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean and held tight. When Mikey attached himself to Dean's leg as well, Dean felt himself start to relax. He ruffled both boys' hair. While his brothers hugged him the teachers helped Jimmy into the elementary school, probably to see the nurse. Then Dean noticed John.

John stood off to the side with his mouth hanging open. Oh, crap. Dean turned away to take his little brothers home. A teacher tried to stop them from leaving, but Dean ignored her. She knew who they were, she could call Mom or Pop to complain. It wasn't like he would listen to any of these teachers anyway. The only things that mattered were Sam and Mikey being safe, and how Mom and Pop would react. If they reacted at all. Sometimes Mom seemed to pretend the fights never happened, which was kind of weird, but as long as he wasn't in trouble Dean wasn't complaining.

Halfway home Dean noticed they were being followed. Worried it might be the other Gunderson who was a potential threat, Billy, Dean glanced back. John was following a few feet behind. Now what was he doing?

Dean tapped Sam on the shoulder to get his attention. When Sam looked up, Dean jerked his head back at John.

Sam sighed loudly before asking, "Why are you following us, John?"

"I have to use the phone so my mom can pick me up," John replied. "Besides, Dean said I could come."

Sam looked back up at him. "You did?" he demanded.

Had he? Dean searched his memory. Yeah, okay, maybe he had. Dean shrugged in response.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, then leaned his head back against Dean's side as they walked. When they reached the house, Dean felt calm and as ready to face Mom as he ever was. Once they were inside, Sam tried to force Dean upstairs, as if they could hide the fight from Mom. Yeah, right.

Dean looked down at the floor so he wouldn't have to see the expression on Mom's face when he walked into the den.

"Dean!" Mom shouted. He cringed at how loud she was. She rushed over to him and used a shaking hand to tilt his face up.

"Don't cry," he whispered when a strange look crossed her face.

Mom cleared her throat, shaking her head. "Why would I do that?" she demanded sharply. "I need to clean up your face. Kitchen."

Dean followed her. At the door to the kitchen she stopped. "The rest of you need to wash upstairs before you come in my clean kitchen."

He waited until she walked through the doorway into the kitchen to follow her. Mom dragged a chair from the dining table over in front of the kitchen sink. Dean sat in it and waited. Mom turned on the water and let it run while she found a hand towel. She soaked it in the water before wiping down his face. When she wiped it near his eye, pain shot through his face and Dean pulled away. By accident. He hadn't meant to.

"All right," Mom whispered. "It's okay. You have a cut there. I need to clean it. The alcohol will burn, but it'll be faster. Is that all right?"

Dean swallowed hard before nodding. Mom pulled the alcohol out of the kitchen cabinet where she kept it, next to all the medicines. She poured some on a dry part of her towel before dabbing it on his face. It stung, worse than a bee sting, but Dean was ready for it this time. He managed to stay still while Mom cleaned the cuts on his face.

"Hands," she demanded. Dean held out his hands for inspection.

"We're clean!" Sammy announced as the kids came into the kitchen. Instantly the noise level rose from almost silent to a wonderful, lively sound.

Mom washed Dean's hands really well in the sink before turning off the water. She patted his hands dry with another hand towel, then poured alcohol over some of his knuckles. When she was done, Mom put the alcohol up and took out the cream. Dean hoped John wasn't in a hurry to call his mom, because Mom was taking for-freaking-ever. She applied cream to all of his cuts. After Mom was done with that, she took out the band-aides. He waited patiently while Mom stuck band-aides all over him.

"There," she finally said, stepping back, "finished."

Sam walked up and his head tilted to one side. "He looks weird."

John stood beside Sam. "Yeah. Kind of."

"Hey!" Sam snapped, turning to face John. "Don't talk about my brother like that!"

"Sam!" Mom admonished before Dean could open his mouth. "You said it first."

"I can. He's my brother," Sam insisted with a glare at Mom. Dean kicked his brother in the shin when Mom wasn't looking. Sam glared at him and Dean glared back, jerking his head at Mom.

Sam sighed loudly. "Sorry, Mom."

Dean nodded at John next.

Sam scowled. "Sorry," he mumbled in John's general direction.

Well, it wasn't great, but Dean would take it. It wasn't like Sam would improve on it anyway. Dean pointed out the phone to his friend, assuming they were still friends. He wondered what John thought of him now.

John nodded silently before heading for the phone. Mom gave him an odd look as he dialed the phone, but then she turned around to open the fridge. Maybe she was thinking about supper.

"Hi, Mom," John said. "I went home with Dean again today." He sighed. "I told you, I'm not allowed to use the phone until I wash up. … Yeah, okay." John turned to Mom. "Missus Peavy? My mom wants to talk to you."

Mom cleared her throat as she closed the fridge door. "Hello?" she said, taking the receiver from John. "Yes, that's right. … No, John is always welcome and I'm always home in the afternoons. It's no problem. … That will be fine. Thank you." Mom hung up the phone.

"John, your mother will come for you in about an hour. In the meantime, do you boys have homework?" Mom asked.

"Yes, ma'am," John replied politely. "No English, but we have a little math."

"After you finish your homework, you and Dean may go outside and play," Mom said. "If Sam and Mikey are bothering you while you're doing your work, send them downstairs and I'll find something for them to do. Now go on." She waved them out of the kitchen.

John waited until they were halfway up the stairs before bumping against Dean's arm. "So? Are you grounded?"

"No way!" Sammy snapped, turning around at the top of the stairs. "What for? Dean didn't start it!"

John gave Sammy a strange look, like he couldn't quite believe how weird they were. "So what? If I get into a fight it doesn't matter who started it, I'm still grounded."

Sammy snorted. "Then your parents are idiots."

Dean silently agreed.

"I'll play with Mikey until your homework is done, okay Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged and nodded. Sam gave him another huge hug. "You were awesome!" he whispered against Dean's chest.

Dean grinned at his little brother, running a hand over Sam's head.

"Me too, Dean!" Mikey insisted, attaching himself to Dean's side again. Dean chuckled and shook his head as he ran his other hand over Mikey's head.

"Go play," he told both of them, extracting himself from their joint embrace. It was kind of embarrassing with John watching.

"Dean?" John whispered when they were in the bedroom with their math books out. "You know what I said the other day about your mom?"

Dean stiffened at the recollection and he nodded once.

"I'm really, really sorry," John said and he sounded like he meant it more now than he had before.

Dean let out the breath he had been holding. "Whatever," he replied, feeling a measure of relief it wasn't something bad. Maybe they were still friends after all.

* * *

Wow, Dean never got in trouble for fighting if he didn't start it. That was amazing. John had new respect for Dean's mom now. When he first met her he thought she was too pushy and overbearing and John could see why Dean wouldn't want to talk much around adults like his parents. He still didn't blame Dean for it. It was nice to know Dean spoke to John more than he spoke to his own parents, but not as much as he talked with his little brothers. Actually, John was relieved Dean would hold a conversation with someone.

Dean was much better at math than John, another reason John wanted to go home with Dean today. He needed help on their homework. This new thing they were doing, with A's and B' and X's, John just didn't get it. It was too hard. Dean breezed through his homework then spent about fifteen minutes coaching John through it. He still didn't like it, but he understood it a little better now.

"Dean?" John asked as they put their books away. Something had been nagging at him since the fight. "What did Jimmy mean when he said you didn't deserve to be a Peavy?"

Dean's body stiffened and froze in place. John watched Dean swallow hard before stiffly shrugging his shoulders. He would have to remember to ask Mom, she could usually find out all the good gossip.

"So what do you want to do outside?" John asked, trying to change to a more comfortable topic.

Dean grabbed his football off the shelf and held it up in the air. "Mikey loves it."

John shrugged. "Okay, whatever." He followed Dean down the stairs. "You don't think he just likes playing with you?" He had no idea what little brothers were like.

Dean snorted loud. "Nah!"

"Football!" Dean called out from the front door. Both younger boys came storming through the house and out the front door with a burst of noise and energy.

John shook his head as he followed. "Do they actually settle down enough to sleep?" he asked.

Dean chuckled at him. "Yeah." His eyes sparkled when he turned to watch his brothers rolling in the grass. Then the smile dropped away as Dean slapped himself in the forehead. "Play shirts," he groaned.

John snagged the football away and ran toward the far end of the yard. "Too late now! Who's open?"

Sam scrambled to his feet to run the other way. "Over here!" he shouted. Looked like it was him and Sam against Dean and Mikey. Game on!

* * *

John stared at his mother in disbelief as she drove them home. "Are you serious? Dean's adopted?"

Mom nodded. "Why do you sound like that, John? It happens all the time. But it was the way it happened." She sighed and shook her head. "Poor kid."

"Why?" John demanded. "Why'd you say poor kid?"

Mom parked in the driveway. She turned the motor off before turning in the seat to face to him. "I didn't want to tell you, because I was afraid it might affect your friendship with Dean. He's so quiet, I know he can't have many friends."

"He doesn't," John confirmed. "Tell me what? What happened to Dean?" His palms were sweaty and his heart raced in his chest. Dean was such a nice guy, what could have happened to him?

Mom sighed again. "Are you sure you want to know?"

John nodded, not trusting his voice.

"When Dean was little, like three or four, his mother died in a house fire. Afterwards, his father was so, I don't know, distraught I guess, he abandoned the kids to the Peavys." Mom shook her head slowly. "It caused a huge uproar at the time. Everybody was talking about it, wondering if he killed his wife, all kinds of horrible things. And they wonder why Dean doesn't like to talk." She made a sour face. "I'm impressed the poor kid is able to go to school and make friends." Now Mom smiled at him and rubbed a soft hand along his arm. "But some kids make better friends than others, I think."

John smiled at his mom. "Thanks, Mom." He shook his head in amazement. "I never heard any of that before."

"I'm surprised," she said, opening her car door. "Some people, like that idiot William Gunderson, can't shut up about it."

John chuckled to himself as he headed into his house. "Well, that explains a lot."

"What does?" Mom asked, setting her purse down.

"About the Gundersons," John explained. "Jimmy attacked Dean at the elementary school today."

Mom gasped, one hand covering her mouth. "Is that why he looked like that?"

John nodded. "Yep. But I don't think Jimmy will do it again any time soon."

Mom's hand lowered slowly as a suspicious expression crossed her face. "And why is that?"

John found himself grinning as he said, "Because Dean kicked his ass. Bad."

"Which means it might be a good thing you hang out with Dean," Mom said slowly. "I guess now I won't have to worry about those Gunderson boys picking on you." She shook a finger at him. "But if I catch you out picking fights..." she threatened.

John held up both hands. "No way, Mom. Honest." But there was no way he'd dare to go between Dean and someone he was after. No freaking way.


	14. Chapter 14

I've had some really positive feedback on the boys' younger years, but I have to tell you, the remaining chapters are my personal favorites of this fic. There are two upcoming therapy sessions which I love - the first one because of what happens during it, and the second one because of how everyone looks after Dean after his session (even though he doesn't realize it). Ah, heck, I'm gonna have to post at least two at once this time, too, to get you to that first session!

**Chapter 14**

**Four Years Later - Dean: 16, Sammy: 12, Mikey: 10**

"But Dean," Sam protested as Dean waved goodbye to John who had walked from the high school over to the middle school to keep Dean company, "Mikey's trying to get you to beat up all the bullies in the neighborhood."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Like you don't. How many have I had to take care of in your school? So far?"

Sam shrugged, meeting Dean's gaze. "Well, we need to clean the place up. School is for education, not getting beat up."

Dean leaned into Sam's shoulder, playfully knocking him off balance. Sam chuckled. The week before Dean had to see the damned doctor was usually the best. After Tuesday, Sam would have to drag Dean back out of his therapy-induced shell, then spend the following week boosting Dean's self-confidence. By the time Dean started to show real improvement, like now, it was time to go freaking back to the doctor and start all over again. Sam was still trying to convince their parents to let him sit in on some of these sessions, but Mom was dead-set against it. It was almost impossible to go against Mom.

"Are you going to come ride with us today?" Dean asked, right out of the blue.

"Ride?" Sam repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Pop's finally going to teach me how to drive," Dean said with a grin.

"No way!" Sam stared back in amazement. "Mom caved?"

Dean shrugged, still grinning.

"But...how?" Sam really wanted to know. "What'd you say?"

"Nuthin'," Dean replied. "Pop did it. He told Mom I was old enough, and if she didn't let me get my license, you and Mikey wouldn't be able to get yours until you were eighteen."

"Really?" Sam returned Dean's grin. "So you're going to be able to teach me to drive in a few years, huh?"

Dean gave him a startled look. "What?"

Sam shoved Dean in the arm. "Dude, you'll be nineteen when I'm fifteen. You only have to be eighteen to teach a minor to drive."

Dean's whole freaking face lit up. "Yeah? Awesome." Then the smile dropped away. "Mom might not like that idea."

"Who cares?" Sam demanded, already feeling irritated over the fact this version of his brother would disappear behind a wall of depression in a few days.

Dean glared at him. "Dude, I can't do it unless Mom says it's all right. You know that. I don't want to be in trouble."

"Dean!" Sam snapped. "You'll be nineteen! Or twenty! Who cares? You won't even be living at home by then!"

Dean stopped walking, his eyes wide and frozen on Sam. "What?" he whispered.

Sam noticed his brother was breathing kind of funny too. "Whoa, Dean. Take it easy. Breathe." He rubbed his big brother's back. "It's all right. Mom and Pop aren't going to kick you out. When you're twenty, you're going to want to move. Maybe." Large soothing circles, the way Sam calmed his brother down after a nightmare, were what he used. "Tell you what. After we pick up Mikey you and I will talk to Mom at home. You'll see. Mom and Pop don't have any plans for you to move out, I swear."

Dean's breathing slowed, approaching normal. "You're sure?"

Sam nodded. "I listen outside their door enough, believe me, I'd know."

The anxiety left Dean's face replaced with relief. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Sam grinned at his big brother. "Would I lie to you?"

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes as he resumed walking. "Do I have to answer that?"

Sam chuckled, falling in step with Dean. "Yeah, yeah. But would I lie to you about that?"

"Nah," Dean admitted with a shake of his head. "I guess not." One arm slung over Sam's shoulders, allowing him to lean on his big brother. "Homework?"

"It can wait," Sam insisted. "I'm going driving with you."

Dean ran a hand over his head, ruffling his hair. "After homework. Besides, we can't go before Pop comes home."

"Ah, rats," Sam mumbled. He looked around. They were at the elementary. Where was Mikey?

"Over here," Dean said as he steered them to the far side of the playground. Mikey had Dean's ratty old football, the one Dean's had forever, and was directing a play.

"Mikey!" Sam shouted.

Mikey's head snapped up. "Yeah, in a minute!" He waved at them before he returned to the crowd of boys.

Sam and Dean stopped at the edge of the field to watch. Mikey had his team lined up the way he wanted. He made the calls and the ball was snapped. Dean leaned a little on Sam's shoulders while they watched. Boys charged at each other, lots of shouting both from the players and kids watching. Sam felt Dean's amused chuckle against his side. Sam leaned heavily on his big brother as Mikey broke free from a group of defenders. He raced out, open. The ball sailed out, headed about five feet away from where Mikey was running. Mikey swerved to change direction, dodging one of the boys close to tackling him, and caught the ball!

Sam couldn't believe it. Dean's arm left his shoulder as their brother clapped and cheered for Mikey. Mikey raced for the far end of the field. A boy latched on to Mikey's waist, but it only slowed him down. Sam felt his eyes go wide as Mikey looked like he would actually score while dragging another boy along for the ride.

"Go, Mikey!" Dean shouted at the top of his voice.

Sam glanced around. There were no adults, only kids around here. Well, that explained it. Dean did tend to loosen up when there weren't any adults. Now Mikey stopped running with both arms holding the ball up in triumphant.

"Did you see that?" Dean demanded, jubilantly shaking Sam by the shoulders.

"Yeah, I saw it," Sam groused. "He's going to be impossible."

"Aw, come on, Sammy. Loosen up!" Dean slapped him on the back before pushing past some kids in the way to Mikey.

"Did ya see me?" Mikey demanded, racing for Dean. Little Mikey, who was still shorter than Sam but outweighed him by ten pounds, plowed into their big brother. Dean laughed as he fell to the ground under Mikey's assault. They rolled around, play wrestling, until Sam decided enough was enough.

"Mom's gonna have a fit when she sees those grass stains," he called out.

Both Dean's and Mikey's attention snapped to him. Then they both had this weird smile on their faces and Sam did not like the looks of that. He spun around and ran full out for home. As he ran his backpack slammed into his back hard enough to leave bruises, he was sure. Then he noticed someone beside him. When he glanced over, Mikey gave him a beaming grin. Crap! Sam tried to run harder, but Mikey was pretty damned fast. His little brother kept pace easily with him, until they reached the front yard. Then it happened. Mikey put on a burst of speed to pass Sam, then he stopped and spun around, arms open.

Crap!

Sam tried to dodge the coming tackle, but he felt a weight hit him from behind. Oh, shit, how could he forget about Dean? He managed to catch himself with his forearms before eating a face-full of grass. Dean rolled him and Mikey jumped in on the action too. They tickled him mercilessly, until Sam couldn't breathe and tears rolled down his face.

"Boys!" Mom's voice shouted. Sam could identify which of his attackers was Dean, because Dean's entire body stiffened at the sound. Dean really hated upsetting Mom. "You're still in your school clothes!"

Sam gasped for breath as his brothers got off of him. Dean pulled him to his feet, mumbling, "Sorry."

"Mikey! What happened to your shirt?" Mom demanded. Sam hadn't noticed it before, but there was a huge hole along the seam under Mikey's arm.

"Huh. Must've happened when Joey tried to tackle me. You shoulda seen it, Mom! I dragged him right into the end zone!" Mikey bragged.

"Really, Dean," Mom chided as they filtered into the house. "If you're going to insist on walking the boys home, the least you could do is make sure they don't ruin their good clothes. Aren't you a little old to be wrestling with your brothers?"

Sam watched the way Dean's shoulders drooped as he headed upstairs.

"Dean!" Mom snapped.

Dean turned around slowly on the stairs. "Yes, ma'am," he said softly.

"That's better." Mom waved at them. "Go on up and change. Your father will be home in an hour and I want your homework finished by the time he arrives. Is that clear?"

Dean nodded mutely before turning back around. He fairly raced up the rest of the stairs. When Sam walked into their room, Dean already had his shirt off and was rooting in the chest of drawers for a clean play shirt.

"What's going on?" Mikey demanded as he tossed his school bag in the corner. "Dean, you're never in a hurry to do homework."

Dean pulled on a fresh shirt before grinning brightly at Mikey.

"No way!" Mikey's face lit up. "They said yes?"

Dean chuckled as he nodded.

"Well, that explains why Mom's in such a mood," Mikey said. "I guess we need to stay out of her way, huh?"

"Works for me," Dean agreed as he reached for his backpack. "I'm working on my homework until Pop comes home."

True to his word, Dean refused to leave their room until they heard the front door slam.

"Twenty minutes!" Pop shouted up the stairs. Both of Dean's fists shook in the air, similar to Mikey's touchdown dance.

Sam tried not to laugh at Dean's excitement, but seeing his big brother like this was really rare. At least the driving lessons were happening during one of Dean's good weeks. Sam tried not to imagine how it would work next week, after Tuesday. He might be able to talk Pop into waiting until Friday or Saturday for a driving lesson, after he and Mikey were able to at least make Dean crack a smile.

Dean paced excitedly, his learner's permit clutched in one hand. After what felt like an eternity, Pop shouted for Dean.

"Dean! It's time!"

Dean motioned excitedly for Sam and Mikey to come with him. Sam didn't really like the idea of Mikey coming along, though. He was still a little kid, despite his size, and would probably distract Dean. The three of them raced down the stairs.

"Whoa!" Pop laughed at them. "I thought this was going to be just me and Dean?"

"But we wanna come watch!" Mikey insisted. "Please?"

"Well, uh..." Pop seemed at a loss. "Dean? I was, uh..." Pop leaned in close to whisper in Dean's ear. Light pink spread across Dean's cheeks. He shrugged. Pop whispered in his ear again and Dean nodded.

"All right," Pop announced. "But only because it's the first lesson. We'll probably spend most of it in the driveway anyway." He sighed and waved an arm at Sam and Mikey. "Let's go."

Sam rushed to beat Mikey to the car, but he wasn't fast enough. Damn, that kid could move. Maybe Dean was right and Mikey could make it on one of the middle school sports teams in a couple of years. Sam jostled Mikey when they clambered into the back seat of Mom's car, both of them wanting the seat behind Dean. Then Sam realized he would have a better view of what Dean was doing if he was on the other side, so Sam let Mikey _think_ he won. As he buckled in, Sam noticed the ball still in Mikey's hand.

"Dude, are you going to carry that ball around everywhere you go?" Sam demanded.

"Shut up," Mikey snapped. He spun it with one hand. "You're just jealous because Dean gave it to me and not you."

"He did not," Sam retorted hotly. "You stole it!"

"Boys!" Pop shouted, his voice loud in the sedan. "Do you two want to wait in the house!" His dark eyes blazed angrily at them.

Sam shrunk back into the seat, anything to divert Pop's anger away from him. Unlike Dean, Sam could handle Mom's moods but Pop was so even-keeled when he lost it, it was scary.

"Next sound out of either of you," Pop shook his finger at them over the seat, "and you're both out of here! Understood?"

Sam heard Mikey nodding against the seat and mimicked the action. Pop sighed as he turned back around to face forward.

"They didn't fall for it," Pop said to Dean.

Dean shrugged as he held out a hand. Pop slapped the keys into his palm. "Start 'er up, son."

Dean gave the keys a little victory toss in the air before inserting the correct key in the ignition. Sam paid attention while Pop explained about adjusting the mirrors and keeping an eye out for other cars and not playing the music loud. Finally Dean was allowed to back out. Right over the curb.

"It's all right," Pop said evenly as Dean ducked his head. "Everyone does it. This is why your mother isn't in the car."

Sam was shocked when Dean nodded in response. Pop talked him through straightening out the car and heading down the street. Pop had Dean drive up the street and around the block before going home. After they all went into the house, Sam paused for a moment to see what Pop would do now, if he was going to report back to Mom. He sneaked up to push gently against the kitchen door, making a crack he could peek through. Pop went straight to the cabinet over the refrigerator. He took out a bottle of whiskey. Sam watched Pop pour some into a glass.

"I told you so," Mom said in a hard voice.

"Knock it off, Kate," Pop said. He took a long drink from his glass. "It was his first time. He did better than I did my first time behind the wheel."

Mom glared at him. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." Pop polished off the whiskey in his glass. "God, how the hell did my dad do it?"

Mom laughed. "Makes you appreciate your parents more, doesn't it?"

"I'll say. What's for dinner? Make anything special for Dean's first drive?" Pop asked.

Sam backed slowly away from the door. Parents were so weird. He walked along the wall up the stairs so the steps wouldn't creak and give him away to Mom and Pop. By the time Sam rounded the corner into their bedroom, Dean sat on the windowseat with his head in his hands.

"What's wrong with him?" Sam asked Mikey.

Mikey shrugged. "Something about screwing up. Beats me."

"Pop said Dean did better today than he did his first time behind the wheel," Sam said, phrasing it for Mikey but saying it for Dean's benefit.

"Listening at the kitchen door again?" Mikey asked, his eyes also on Dean.

"Yep." Sam waited for it. "I guess Pop meant it when he said Dean did just fine."

Slowly Dean's head lifted, enough to clear his hands. With a deep breath, his eyes lifted to look at Sam. "Yeah? They don't, uh, think I screwed up?"

Sam shook his head. "You did fine, Dean. Did you really expect to be able to drive like a pro your first time out?"

Dean's gaze darted downward as he shrugged. Oh, brother. How could a guy with such low self-esteem have such high standards? Or...was that the problem? Holy crap! Had Sam just figured out what all those expensive doctors couldn't? Hot damn! But...how was he going to clue in the adults? Oh, crap. Great. If it wasn't one thing, it was another.


	15. Chapter 15

Okay, not only do I love what happens in this therapy session, but the interaction between Dean and Pop afterwards.

**Chapter 15**

Sam's eyes flew open. It was mostly dark in their room, light from the streetlamp out front striking the far wall in thin lines through the blinds. Why was he awake? Sam glanced to his immediate right to check on his brother. Two thin stripes of light sliced across Dean's face, revealing his grimace. Shit!

"Dean?" Sam whispered. Another whimper came from his big brother, like he was in pain. Sam scooted closer, stroking one hand over Dean's head. He hated this. He hated there was anything which could hurt his brother like this. At least Dean wasn't screaming. Yet. Dean began to move restlessly. Soon he would be reaching out, searching for something. Sam continued petting his brother, stroking his short hair. One of Dean's arms flew out, wrapping around Sam in a crushing hug. Sam gasped at the unexpectedness and strength of Dean's embrace.

"Sam," Dean mumbled against his chest.

"I'm here, Dean," he whispered back, finally able to reach Dean's back. When Sam could rub large circles across his brother's back, Dean started to settle down. "That's it," Sam soothed. "Everything's fine."

"Sam?" Sam nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected voice. Mikey stood right beside him. "Is it thunder?"

"Uh," Sam's tired brain struggled to figure out if he should admit it's another one of Dean's nightmares or agree that Dean must be scared of the same thing as Mikey.

"Ooohh," Mikey said softly. "Another bad dream, huh?" He crawled in Sam and Dean's bed on the other side. "I'll help."

"What?" Sam hissed. This was his job, not Mikey's! "What do you think you're doing?" It was becoming difficult to keep his voice down.

Dean gasped loudly as he sat straight up in bed, eyes wide open in either fear or panic, or both. Sam waited anxiously, hoping his brother was awake and not still stuck in the grips of a nightmare.

"Dean!" Mikey grabbed one of Dean's arms. Sam reached across Dean's back with the intention of shoving Mikey away when Dean spun to face the kid.

"Mikey!" Dean grabbed Mikey in a crushing hug then. While he hugged Mikey, Dean looked back at Sam. One arm snaked out to pull Sam in too. Now Sam noticed Dean's whole body was shivering, even though his pajamas were drenched with sweat.

"Thought you were gone," Dean gasped, his breath harsh and ragged. "Gone."

"We're here, Dean," Sam assured him, though speaking was difficult pressed against Dean's chest like this. "We're fine. It's okay."

"Can't...breathe..." Mikey mumbled from Dean's armpit.

Once Dean released them, he checked each of them over thoroughly, though Sam had no idea what Dean might be looking for. He never did, but Sam knew from past experience if he refused to allow it Dean would become so agitated there would be no hope of any more sleep tonight. Once Dean was satisfied he made both of them lie back down, one on each side of him. Their big brother held them tight as he whispered, "Safe, you're safe," over and over. Sam fell asleep with his head on Dean's shoulder listening to his brother's chanting voice, wondering what exactly Dean meant by 'gone.'

* * *

Dean sat silent and sullen in the waiting room of his therapist's office. Sam was bound and determined to go in with him this time and had even found a great excuse – to tell the therapist how well Dean's driving lessons with Pop were going. Even Mom had caved, deciding the doctor should hear how well Dean was doing. When he spoke, Dean never said good things about himself.

"Did you?" Sam asked suddenly, turning to nudge his brother in the arm.

Dean's head snapped to the side at the nudge, God bless Dean's friend John for programming that response in Dean. "What?" he whispered as he glanced suspiciously over at the receptionist.

"Give your football to Mikey?" Sam was going to get a freaking answer too.

Dean shrugged, his head dropping back down. Sam's eyes widened in shock.

"Why?" he demanded. "Why'd you give it to Mikey and not me?"

Dean's head lifted to give Sam an incredulous glare. "He likes football," he hissed. "You don't."

"Oh." Sam sat in his chair for a moment, absorbing the new information. "Does that mean I can have your real leather basketball?"

Dean groaned as he slumped down in the seat. "Get me through this," he whispered, "and I'll give you anything you freaking want."

"Deal," Sam replied happily. Yes! The basketball was his!! Mikey would be so stinkin' jealous.

"Dean!" The receptionist called out.

With a heavy sigh, Dean stood. Sam walked at his big brother's side into the doctor's office. He wasn't sure exactly what he expected, but it wasn't this. There were big armchairs and a couch, and against the far wall was a table set up with blank white paper and a full set of colored pencils.

"Hello, Dean." The doctor, whose name Sam couldn't remember, greeted them. "I understand you're bringing a special guest today?" He had this fakey cheerful voice which creeped Sam out.

"Sam," he said with an outstretched hand. Sam waited for the moron to shake it. "Dean's my big brother."

"Yes, your mother called," the doctor said slowly as he shook Sam's hand loosely. "I believe you want to tell me about Dean's latest success?"

Sam turned to face his brother, who stood uncertainly near the door. "Dean? What do you usually do? Where do you sit?"

Dean did not motion at the couch or the chairs, but at the table. Sam cocked an eyebrow at him. "You're kidding."

Dean's head shook slightly from side to side, his eyes still downcast.

Sam sighed. "Uh, okay. I guess let's do whatever you usually do. Lead the way," he insisted.

Dean's head lifted just enough to make eye contact with Sam, silently asking if Sam was serious.

"You know I am," Sam retorted. "Go on." He waved a hand at the table.

With a heavy sigh Dean trooped over to the table. He sat first before pulling a chair out for Sam. Sam took the seat next to Dean, giving the doctor an expectant look.

"Very well." The doctor pulled up a third chair to join them. "Sam? Would you care to tell me what you have to tell me so Dean and I can get started?"

Sam drummed his fingers on the table. "Actually, I'd kinda like to see what goes on in these sessions. I think telling you about Dean learning to drive can wait a little while."

"Dean!" The doctor gave them a broad smile. "Are you learning to drive? Really?" He took a pen out of his pocket and flipped open a thick file. The doctor scribbled something inside. "And how is that going?"

Dean did not respond. Sam guessed it was because he was here.

"Dean." The doctor gave a heavy, disappointed sigh. "What do we do when we don't feel like talking?" He sounded like he was talking to a freaking two year old! Sam grit his teeth.

Dean let out a small sigh as he pulled the blank paper towards him. He took one of the colored pencils and pressed it to the paper. Before Sam's amazed eyes, Dean quickly drew a pretty good picture of Mom's car. Using a green pencil, he drew the front yard around it.

"It wasn't that bad!" Sam protested. Dean shrugged. Sam shoved his brother in the arm. "It was just over the curb, not through the yard. And Pop said you did better your first time out than he did." He turned to talk to Dean's therapist. "Dean didn't hit the curb at all the second time, either."

"And how would you know?" the doctor asked with an indulging smile, as if Sam were just a little kid. "Were you watching from the house?"

"I was in the car," Sam said slowly, his anger building.

"Now I doubt, even from the car, that you're really qualified to judge how well Dean is learning to drive. You're too young to understand these things." The doctor shook his head with a chuckle, but then he froze. The smile dropped slowly from his face as he leaned back from the table, his eyes going wide.

Sam turned to ask his brother what was wrong with the moron doctor, but with one look he knew. Dean glared at the therapist with hard, narrowed eyes. This was the same look the bullies got just before Dean beat the crap outta them.

"Take it back," Dean growled in a low, threatening voice.

"Wh-what?" the therapist stuttered.

Dean stood to tower over the older man, his face hard and cold. Sam grinned and leaned back to enjoy the show. If Dean did decide to beat the crap out of this guy, Sam was considering letting him.

"Take. It. Back." Dean's hand slammed down on the table, scattering the paper.

The doctor's mouth flapped open a couple of times.

"If I were you," Sam advised, "I'd take it back." He jerked a thumb at his brother. "Before he kills you."

"D-dean," the doctor said slowly. "This really isn't like you. Sit down."

When the red flush started climbing from Dean's neck into his face, like it was now, it was way too late to just tell Dean to settle down. As if to prove the point, one of Dean's strong hands grabbed a fistful of the therapist's shirt to pull him up.

"Apologize," Dean growled, eyes flaring.

"Sorry," the man said quickly. "I-I'm sorry!"

"Not me!" Dean snapped. He leaned the doctor over the table to face Sam. "Him!" Dean shook the man again.

This was really good. Sam wondered what it would take to get Dean this riled up with other asshole adults.

"Sorry," the doctor repeated quickly. "I'm sorry." He looked pretty damned scared when Dean released him.

Apparently Dean wasn't quite satisfied, though. He gathered up all the paper on the table and crumbled it up into one big paper ball. Then he threw it away. The paper ball was quickly followed by all the colored pencils but one. Dean tested the balance of it, tossing it in the air a couple of times. Next he sent it flying into the wall where it stuck firmly, embedded in halfway.

"Something to remember us by," Sam informed the doctor as he stood up slowly. He looked his big brother in the eye. Dean was still pretty wound up. "I take it you're ready to go?"

Dean shot the therapist another nasty look before meeting Sam's gaze again. His eyes darted to the door briefly.

"Then let's go," Sam replied. He opened the door for Dean. Before closing it behind them, Sam took the opportunity to stick his tongue out at the asshole. He caught up to Dean at the far end of the waiting room. "So do I call Pop or do you just want to wait outside for him?"

Dean was breathing heavy, his skin still flushed, as they breached the outer doors. "Wait," he said in a low growl.

Dean led them to the far side of the parking lot. He dropped down to sit in the grass. Sam sat beside his big brother. Dean's head dropped to rest against his knees. Sam rubbed large circles on his brother's back.

"Mom's going to be pissed," Dean breathed out.

Ah, crap.

"Maybe," Sam admitted. "I'll talk to her. It wasn't your fault, Dean. That guy is a prick."

Dean chuckled under his hand. His head lifted to give Sam a small smile. "Yeah, he is. And you didn't have to sit in there for two hours every month."

"I wish you didn't have to, Dean," Sam said. "You know that, right?"

Dean nodded, leaning back on his elbows. "I'm not like you and Mikey, Sam." He glanced over. "That's why I have to go."

Sam frowned as he mimicked Dean's pose. "What do you mean?"

Dean sighed, his face turning up to the sky where the sun could beat down on it, his eyes closing. "You talk. Mom likes that."

Sam studied his brother as Dean started to relax, his skin color returning to normal.

"Mom likes what?" Sam asked after a while, when Dean appeared calmer. "Me talking?"

Dean nodded, eyes still closed and face upturned.

"So you go to these stupid doctors because you don't talk to Mom as much as you do me and Mikey?" Sam asked, astounded.

Dean's head rolled to the side and his eyes opened. "Sam, I don't talk to anyone as much as I talk to you. And Mikey." His eyes closed again as his face turned back to the sun. "But mostly you."

"Oh," Sam breathed. Well, yeah, Dean was quiet. Sometimes silent, especially in public. Sam often spoke up for him, sure. But he never thought there was anything _wrong_ with Dean. He flopped down to lay flat on his back. He turned the idea over in his head for a while.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Sam stated with certainty.

He felt Dean lay on the ground next to him. Dean's arm moved out to shove Sam's. Sam grinned, shoving Dean's arm back. They were still at it when Pop's work truck pulled up. Dean jumped to his feet to give Sam a hand up.

"Pop! Can Dean drive us home?" Sam asked. He had a feeling Dean was going to be grounded from driving lessons once Mom and Pop found out how therapy went today.

Pop made a funny face before sliding into the passenger seat. Dean grasped Sam's arm in thanks before holding the door open. Sam clambered in to sit in the middle before Dean scooted into the driver's seat. They both patiently listened to Pop's regular driving lecture before Dean was allowed to pull out.

Sam watched his brother carefully as Dean drove them home. He appeared normal, not the way he usually did after therapy.

They were nearly home before Pop asked, "Good session this week?" He was smiling, like he thought Dean had one of those so-called 'breakthroughs'. What a crock. All a breakthrough meant to Sam was Dean acting sullen and moody for at least a week.

When they pulled into the driveway, Sam knew they were busted. Mom stood outside the front door, arms crossed over her chest. Ah, crap. He and Dean slowly got out of the truck.

"How could you!" Mom's sharp, reproving voice carried clearly.

Sam rushed to stand by his big brother's side. Dean's head hung low as he stood by the front of the truck.

"How could he what?" Pop asked.

Mom stalked across the yard, waving one arm in Dean's direction. "He threatened his doctor!"

"No, he didn't!" Sam turned to Pop. "Dean just made him apologize, that's all."

"Apologize for what?" Mom demanded. "What could the therapist possibly have to apologize for?" She grabbed Dean's chin with one hand and forced his head up to look at her. "Well?"

Sam had expected Dean to pull away, to drop his gaze again, shake his head and motion for Sam to explain. Instead Dean looked Mom right in the eye. "Nobody talks like that to Sammy," he said in a soft, stern voice.

Mom's hand dropped away slowly, a startled look on her face. "Room," she said in a bland, neutral voice, no anger in her expression.

Sam found himself propelled toward the house by his big brother's strong hands. Dean did not push hard enough to bruise, but his firm hold was not one Sam thought he could break. They were upstairs in their room before Dean released him.

"What happened?" Mikey demanded before the door closed. "Mom got a phone call and went freaking ballistic."

"Watch your language," Dean warned. "Mom's in enough of a mood." He fell backwards on the large bed, arms and legs splayed out. "I'm in so much trouble."

"For what?" Mikey asked again.

Sam beamed as he related the story of Dean intimidating the prick of a therapist.

"Whoa," Mikey breathed out when Sam was finished. "I wish I'd been there."

"It was awesome," Sam admitted.

"Knock it off," Dean groaned, hands over his face. "I'm going to be grounded until I'm fifty."

There was a sharp knock on their door. Sam rushed to open it, not wanting their parents more irritated than they already were. Mom and Pop glared at him when he opened the door.

"We want an explanation. Now." They were both looking at him, not at Dean.

Sam chewed his lower lip for a moment before deciding how to tell them what happened.

"Well, I went to Dean's appointment with him, to tell his doctor about how well the driving lessons are going. And it's a good thing, too. That jerk makes Dean draw if he doesn't want to talk, and Dean drew a picture of the car in the middle of the yard, which never happened. I mean yeah, he might've bumped a couple of curbs, but Pop says that's normal when you're learning to drive. He never drove out in the middle of the yard."

"Sam!" Mom snapped. Okay, so rambling wasn't going to work.

"Well, I tried telling this guy that, and he acted like I was a moron or something. He told me even though I was in the car, I was too stupid to know if Dean was driving okay." Sam shrugged. "Dean really doesn't like it when people talk to me or Mikey like we're morons."

"He was defending you?" Pop asked.

Sam glanced back at Dean on the bed. Now he was lying on his stomach with his head under a pillow.

"Of course he was," Sam replied, a little disgusted over the fact Dean didn't appear to be the rush-to-the-rescue big brother at the moment. Sam turned to look each of their parents in the eye. "It's the truth. The guy was a prick."

Dean's groan reached them through the pillows. Sam grinned at it, still facing their parents. "Sorry for calling the asshole a prick. Won't happen again," he called out loudly, mainly to irritate Dean.

Pop rolled his eyes up while Mom's face tightened. Sam didn't even care if he was in trouble, as long as it took some of the heat off of Dean.

"We'll discuss punishments after dinner," Mom declared in a tight voice. She spun around to race downstairs.

* * *

Mike rushed after his wife. He caught up to her in the kitchen. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she tore through the freezer, looking for something which clearly was not there. Mike gently pulled her away, ignoring the open freezer door.

"Hey, hey," he said softly. "What is it? Is it because he was in another fight?"

Kate sniffled as she rubbed her palms over her cheeks. "He was defending Sam," she said in a soft voice. "How can we punish that? We let him beat up every kid in town who so much as looks cross-eyed at any one of them. How can we punish him for standing up for Sam?" A thin smile appeared on Kate's face. "Does this mean he's getting better?"

Mike shrugged helplessly. "Honey, I don't know. I really don't. But if it's true, then you're right, we can't punish Dean for this. Sam, however, is a different matter."

Kate looked startled. "What do you mean?"

Mike sighed. "It means Sam was probably mouthing off. To an adult."

Kate groaned. "And punishment works so well on him," she said sarcastically.

"I thought of a new one," Mike offered, rather proud of himself for this one.

"What?" She turned away to grab something frozen for dinner before slamming the door closed.

Mike leaned against the kitchen counter with a smile on his face. "No talking at the dinner table."

Kate glanced at him as she set about starting dinner. "What? What kind of punishment is that?"

"It'll kill him," Mike assured her. "Worth a try, right?"

Kate sighed and shrugged. "I guess."

Mike walked up behind her to rub her shoulders gently. "We can find another therapist. Dean doesn't have to go back to this one. Okay, honey?" He kissed the top of her shoulder. "Okay?"

Briefly Kate leaned back against him. "Okay," she said gently. "He doesn't need a doctor who's afraid of him."

Mike worked his arms around her waist. "The doctor's afraid of him?" he asked, oddly pleased by the thought.

"Go shower," she said sharply. "Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes."

Mike kissed her shoulder again before he released her, not fooled by her tone. Typically the harsher Kate sounded, the more worried she was. It was a good thing the boys hadn't figured that one out yet, or they would probably be walking all over her.

After his shower, Mike called the boys down to dinner. As usual, Dean's head hung low as they came downstairs.

"Sam, no speaking during dinner," Mike announced. "Your mother and I don't like the idea of you mouthing off to adults."

Sam's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. "What?" he squeaked. "But I didn't! Honest, Pop!"

"Enough," Mike declared. "Not another word until after we eat." His son's mouth flew open with another retort, but then Sam stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Dean stood there with a hand on the younger boy's shoulder. Mike watched as Sam seemed to take silent direction from his older brother.

Mike followed the boys to the table, wondering about Dean. Not for the first time, Mike saw his oldest communicate without words. Was that so bad? Why was Kate so hung up on Dean speaking more? He was basically a good kid. Mike couldn't believe the number of fights Sam and Mikey claimed Dean had been in. Kids liked to exaggerate.

Dinner was eaten in a strained silence, with Sam shooting him glares when he thought Mike wouldn't notice. When it was thankfully over, and Kate gave him a look saying this had been worse on her than Sam, Mike excused himself from the table.

"I'm going to change the oil in Mom's car," he announced. "Anyone who wants to help, go change into some old clothes and join me in the driveway." Mike always made the offer, but it was pretty rare any of the boys took him up on it.

Mike went out to raise the garage door. Not expecting company, he set out the bottles of fresh oil and the pan to drain the old oil into. Now where was that oil filter wrench? It was supposed to be in this drawer. A hand reached past him. Startled, Mike moved to the side. Dean, wearing old clothes, opened the top drawer of his home tool cabinet. The boy took out the correct oil filter wrench and held it out. Mike took it.

"Thanks." He jerked his head at the car. "Think you remember how to drain the oil?"

Dean shrugged as he turned back to the cabinet. He found a wrench which should work to remove the drain plug. Dean never met his eyes, but the teen took the drain pan and scooted under the car. When Dean came back out, he had a disgusted look on his face. Mike chuckled.

"Dropped the plug in the pan, didn't you?" he asked with a grin.

Dean's head dropped lower as he nodded.

"It's all right," Mike assured him. "We've all done it. Hey, at least you didn't lose it." He smiled as he pulled Dean to his feet. "After the oil finishes draining and it cools a little, you can fish it out."

Dean's head bobbed a little, probably in agreement.

"I once dropped a drain plug and it rolled away, right down the center drain at the garage," Mike told him. Dean turned his head slightly to the side, maybe to peek at Mike to see if he was serious. "Longest damn oil change on record, because I had to find a new plug that would fit. We didn't have one in stock, it was a foreign job." Mike shook his head. "Don't ever buy a foreign car, son. They can be a real pain in the ass. Most of the time it's in metric."

Dean laid back down like he was going to slide back under the car.

"Wait a minute," Mike protested. "Let it drain for a while. I'll be right back."

Mike rushed inside to grab a beer and a soda. Kate was still cleaning up in the kitchen. Mike winked at her. "I have company."

"It better not be Sammy pleading Dean's case," she said sharply. "He's been in here for the past ten minutes, driving me crazy." Kate blew her hair out of her eyes. "I mean, we didn't even announce a punishment!"

Mike shook his head. "Nope. Dean. He's helping change your oil. Well, actually, he's doing it while I supervise."

Mike grinned when his wife's eyes widened. He shrugged at her, not really understanding it either but not willing to question it. Holding both drinks, Mike headed back out to the garage. He pulled out a lawn chair to sit next to the car before handing over Dean's soda.

Dean didn't make eye contact, but he nodded as he accepted the soda, the usual way Dean had of saying thanks. Kate always made him voice it, but Mike didn't see the point. It was okay for guys not to want to talk a lot. If he had to be honest, sometimes Mike preferred spending time alone with Dean over the other boys. His ears never felt tired when they were done.

Mike checked his watch. "So, uh, the therapist," he began, noticing Dean's cheeks start to pink. "Did he really act like that toward Sammy? Or was your brother exaggerating again?"

Dean sighed as he shook his head, then took a long drink of soda. No, then. No to the way the therapist acted or no to Sam exaggerating? Crap. Well, Dean was pretty protective of his younger brothers, so maybe he should assume Sam was telling the truth.

"Sam wasn't exaggerating?" Mike asked, watching his oldest carefully. Dean shook his head again. "The guy really makes you draw pictures, like a little kid?"

A short chuckle, though Mike heard no mirth in it, accompanied the nod. Before he knew what he was doing, Mike had a hand on Dean's head. He slid it down to his son's neck, rather surprised Dean had not jerked away.

"The next one won't," Mike promised. "I'll make sure of it. How about if I sit in on the first session?"

Dean's face tilted toward him and there was a slight smile as he shrugged.

"Good," Mike declared, taking his hand away. He motioned to the car with his beer. "Go find that plug."

Dean nodded before sliding back under the car. Mike grinned at the disgusted grunts and noises coming from under the car. Eventually Dean slid back out with the plug held up triumphantly in an oily hand. Mike grinned at him.

"Good. Now go take off the old filter," he instructed. Mike made a point of standing off to the side, out of the way, while he supervised. It worked pretty well when training junior mechanics, why not with Dean? Mike was pretty pleased with how well Dean followed instructions. Within the hour, Dean had the new filter on, the oil plug back in, and new oil in the car. Mike squirted some of the garage soap in Dean's hands before turning on the outdoor faucet for Dean to wash his hands.

"Good job," Mike said as the headed inside. "Better go wash up and change," Mike advised. He was still relatively clean. Before joining the rest of the family in front of the television, where Sam sat sulking by himself on one end of the couch, Mike went to the kitchen for another beer. He used the magnetic notepad on the fridge to write himself a note to order a set of work coveralls for Dean. You know, just in case the kid wanted a job. He stuffed the note in his wallet where even his wife shouldn't spot it before snagging a beer and heading into the den.

When Dean came down fifteen minutes later, freshly showered, he dropped down on the couch next to Sam. Mike pretended to watch the show while focusing on the boys. Sam was scowling at the television, clearly unhappy. Dean poked him in the arm. Sam ignored it. Dean kept poking, over and over again, until Sam shot him a withering glare. Dean grinned, poking him again. Sam rolled his eyes, but he leaned back against his big brother. Dean slung an arm around Sam's shoulders, both of them focusing on the show. Once they were settled, Mikey scooted closer. Dean's other arm lifted and Mikey rushed to sit within the embrace.

Sometimes Mike was really glad John Winchester was a jackass, even though it meant finding yet another freaking therapist.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**One Year Later - Dean: 17, Sammy: 13, Mikey: 11**

Dean sat in the armchair with his arms crossed defensively over his chest while the damned therapist made new notes in that thick file. Jackass.

"Let's talk about your brothers now," Doctor Brown suggested. Dean resisted rolling his eyes. "I know middle children often feel left out. Is your brother, uh, Sam like that?"

Dean snorted in disbelief at the stupid question. "No."

Brown smiled at him. "That sounded like a big 'no.' Would you care to elaborate?"

Dean shook his head. Doctor Brown sighed heavily. "Dean, do you realize the people your silence hurts? Human beings are social animals. This means we require interaction. You're not just hurting yourself, you're hurting the people around you when you refuse to communicate.

"I understand you have a friend who drops by the house." The man flipped through his file again. "George. Is that right? Is your friend's name George?"

"John," Dean corrected. George's family had moved across town a couple of years ago. He hardly ever stopped by the house any more.

"No, I have George here." Doctor Brown rubbed across his jaw. "I'm sure your mother said George."

Dean shrugged. She probably had. Mom was terrible with the names of their friends. She couldn't keep any of Sam or Mikey's friends straight, so he was probably lucky she got one of the names of his friends right. Actually, he would bet she knew his friends' names, but not which name went with which friend.

"Who is John?" Brown asked.

"Friend," Dean replied simply.

"Does this friend ever come by the house?" Brown asked, pen poised to take more notes. Dean nodded then watched as the therapist scribbled down something else. "How about if we ask John to come to one of your sessions? Would that be all right?"

Now Dean looked the therapist in the eye. What the hell was the man talking about? Asking his best friend who wasn't related to come? HERE? Oh, hell no! He shook his head quickly.

"Why not?" he asked.

"No," Dean said firmly. They weren't even discussing this. Last year, after the incident with Sam, Dean now had permission from Mom to walk out of a session if the therapist was being a dick. He eyed the door.

"Dean." Brown snapped his fingers to get Dean's attention. "Over here."

Dean dragged his gaze from the door back to the floor at the doctor's feet. Jackass.

"How often does John come by the house?" Brown asked.

Dean shrugged. "Ask Sam," he suggested.

Brown smiled at that. "Really? I can ask your brother to come in?"

Dean grinned and nodded. Oh, hell yeah, ask Sam to come in. Sam would rip this guy to shreds while Dean watched. Awesome.

"Well, maybe next time," Brown said after checking his watch. "I'd like to use the last fifteen minutes discussing ways for you to improve."

Dean slumped in his chair. Wonderful. Now the therapist would list all the ways in which Dean was deficient and how he needed to improve. Yeah, great. More talking. More interaction. People thought he was avoiding them, which he usually was. Duh. People weren't terribly nice, on average.

Sure enough, Doctor Brown gave him all kinds of assignments he had no intention of performing. One of which, to buy his own tickets to the movies even if a girl was at the window, was especially intimidating. He could take Mikey and make him buy the tickets. Mikey wouldn't tell. The biggest problem with this jackass was he always sent Dean's 'homework' with him in the form of a computer print-out. And Mom knew about it. She kept the damn thing on the fridge and checked off items as he completed them.

Frustrated and feeling about as low as he could, one of his assignments was to introduce himself to a perfect stranger in a social setting, Dean crumpled his assignment page to stuff in his pocket. He opened the door quickly, with Doctor Brown still yammering on about how helpful the assignments were, and shut it behind him. As usual, Sam was waiting for him right by the door. Without a word, Sam fell into step beside him.

"Let me see it," Sam demanded the instant they were outside. Dean grunted as he pulled the crumpled paper out. He avoided Sam's gaze as his little brother smoothed out the page and read it over. "Oh, give me a break," Sam muttered. "I wouldn't want to do some of this crap."

Maybe not, but if he lied about any of it Sam was usually the one who busted him. Mikey never gave him up.

Sam pointed out number three on the list, telling an amusing story in a social setting. "We're lying about this one," he announced. Oh, thank God. Sam nudged him in the arm. "Dude, some of these aren't too bad."

Dean shrugged, keeping his gaze down. Did Sam think he was a loser because he didn't like to talk all the time? What did Sam really think of him?

Sam sighed heavily from beside him and Dean tensed. This was it. Sam was going to tell him how much of a drag it was having him for an older brother.

"There's Pop," Sam said, pointing ahead. Sam put a hand on his arm, which made Dean step away. He didn't deserve to feel better, or like he belonged in this family. Everyone else was outgoing and talkative. He was the different one. Why did they keep him? Maybe it was so they could keep Sam. He was 'unnaturally' attached to his little brother, after all. Dean shivered, running his hands over the goosebumps on his arms.

Sam sighed heavily again. Pop parked next to them. Dean waited, eyes downcast.

"You're driving," Sam announced before jumping up into the truck.

He was? Dean lifted his head to see if Sam was serious. The driver's door stood open and Pop was in the passenger seat.

"Let's go, Dean," Pop said in a voice loud enough to carry over the engine noise. "I had a rough day at the shop."

Dean hopped up behind the wheel. He put on his seatbelt, checked that Sam and Pop were wearing theirs, before putting the truck in drive. Man, it felt so good to drive. Dean wished he had his own car, but he didn't have any money to buy one. He barely had any allowance. There just wasn't much money to spare with three kids in the house, eating everything in sight. Dean knew the three of them were the reason Mom went to the store at least twice a week.

It wasn't on the list, but Dean wondered how Doctor Brown would feel about him finding a job. That might wipe out a few of those stupid assignments. Plus he would have his own spending money, so Mom and Pop wouldn't need to give him an allowance, and he could buy his own car. Yeah, that was a plan.

"What's the list look like?" Pop asked. Dean heard the rustle of paper as Sam handed it over. Pop let out a low whistle. "Seriously? Well, I guess you're making progress, Dean."

He certainly didn't feel like he was making progress. Dean parked carefully in the driveway, still avoiding all eye contact. With the engine off, all of his thoughts from earlier came flooding back. Why the hell had Mom and Pop kept such a loser kid like him? His eyes drifted to Sam's back as they headed for the house. Yeah, that had to be it. They kept him because of Sammy. Well, who wouldn't want Sammy? He was outgoing, funny, fun to be around, and a great kid in general. Well, he supposed it was a fair enough trade-off, keeping him in order to keep Sam. Sam was great.

Dean followed Sam upstairs, hoping to avoid Mom for as long as possible. These stupid sessions always made him feel so damned tired, as if he had been working out for a couple of hours instead of sitting in a chair for an hour. Dean headed straight for bed, crashing on it face-down. Sam and Mikey never bothered him if he was face-down. It was kind of an unspoken agreement. Dean stayed there, not sleeping just thinking, until Mom called them down to dinner.

When he rolled off the bed, he was relieved to see the room was empty. Sometimes one of his younger brothers would sit in the window to keep an eye on him while he recuperated from his stupid session, though he never understood why. Dean washed up before heading downstairs. Mom was at the bottom of the stairs when he started down.

"Oh, there you are," Mom said as he walked down slowly. Dean cringed at the sound of her voice, afraid she would want him to tell her about...something. "I was about to call you again."

Dean refused to make eye contact, not wanting to see disappointment in her eyes. Instead he held up his hands to show they were clean.

"Good," Mom said brusquely. "Now go set the table."

He figured she was always reminding him because he was dumb enough to forget what he did every stupid day. Dean silently set about putting the plates and silverware on the table while Sam and Mikey set out filled glasses and napkins and the food. The younger boys talked incessantly about school and sports. Dean sat down, still not really listening. When he thought no one was looking, Dean checked the fridge. Yep, his stupid assignment list was up there. Crap.

Mikey kept telling stupid jokes all through dinner. Normally Dean would have found some of them funny, but not today, he wasn't in the right mood. He concentrated on his food.

"Dean?" Mom asked and he shrank back from the sound of her voice. She wanted something. "Would you like to, uh, tell us about your day?"

Oh, crap, was that on the list? Dean broke out in a cold sweat as he shook his head.

"Okay," Mom said quickly. "Sam, have you finished your homework?"

"Most of it," Sam said. "I was hoping Dean would help me with my math."

Oh, man... Sam was better at math than he was. Why would his little brother want his help?

"Sounds good," Pop said. "Mikey, how about you?"

"Uh, social studies," Mikey said. "Dean promised to help with my project. I wanted to do it on the Plains Indians, but they're really boring so my teacher said I could do it on the Indians who lived in those cave cities. Dean's supposed to help me make my own cave painting."

"I hope Dean's homework is done," Mom said. "It certainly sounds like he's going to be busy."

"Are we excused?" Sam asked kind of quick.

"Unless someone wants dessert?" Mom asked.

Dean sighed. He didn't deserve dessert, so he shook his head. He also hadn't figured anyone was watching him shake his head.

"Me either!" Sam jumped to his feet. "I get Dean first!"

"Hey!" Mikey shouted. "I had dibs!"

Ah, crap. Well, maybe he was good for one thing: helping his kid brothers with their homework.

"Dean?" Mom called out before he made it out the kitchen door. "Do you need any supplies for Mikey's project? There's some paper and paint and some other craft stuff in the top cabinet in the laundry room."

Dean took a deep breath before turning around. Why did everyone make therapy day so freaking difficult? Why couldn't they just let him go hide in the closet or something until tomorrow? He went into the laundry room and rummaged around in the top cabinet until he found the paper and paints Mom mentioned. He also found a whole box of colored chalk. Didn't those cave drawings look more like chalk than paint anyway? Dean shoved the paint back in the cabinet, taking the chalk instead.

Neither Mom or Pop said anything more as he walked back through the kitchen. As he passed by the front door, the stack of old newspapers for the recycle bin at school caught his eye. Chalk could be messy. Dean grabbed a section of paper before heading upstairs. He had expected to hear his younger brothers squabbling, but there was this eerie silence instead. Suspicious, Dean walked slowly into their room.

Sam sat on the bed with his math book open and a spiral notebook balanced on his knee. Mikey was sitting on the windowseat staring at the door.

"About time!" Mikey snapped, but there was a smile on his face. "So what are we doing?"

Dean brought him the paper and chalk. First he spread the newspaper out over the windowseat. Next he set a large piece of construction paper, brown, out on the wood surface, then he handed Mikey the chalk. "Draw."

"What happened to the paint?" Mikey asked, his head ducking down to look at Dean.

"More realistic," Dean explained with a wave of his hand.

He trudged over to the bed to see what Sam needed. Sam had several problems circled in his textbook. One hand waved over them. "I don't get it!" Sam sounded pretty upset. "It made sense in class, but now nothing looks right!"

Dean hesitated before putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Relax," he told his brother. "I'll show you."

Dean laid on his stomach next to Sam and worked through all of the example problems. Then he watched as Sam tried the first few problems. Sam settled down after successfully completing a few on his own, giving Dean the opportunity to check on Mikey's progress. Mikey had a pretty cool symbol he was finishing up. Dean showed him how to use a darker color of chalk to shade it. He left Mikey doing that to check back on Sammy. Sam wanted him to go over a few of the problems again. Dean did. He laid his head down for just a minute while Sam started on the more difficult problems in his homework. Just a minute.

"Dean?" Someone shook his shoulder. "Dean, honey?"

Dean lifted his head to see Mom bending over him. "Huh?"

Mom smiled. "Come on, sweetie," she said. "It's time for bed. The boys are changing and brushing their teeth."

He looked around the room he shared with his brothers. It was empty except for him and Mom. The sound of running water came from the wall this room shared with the upstairs bathroom. Dean rolled off the bed and nodded to Mom. She seemed to hesitate in front of him for a moment. Had he forgotten to do something? Was tonight his night to help with the dishes? Oh, crap, how much trouble was he in now?

Mom leaned in close and kissed him on the cheek. "Good night," she said quickly before rushing out of the room.

Dean stared out the door until Sam walked back in. "What's up, Dean?"

Dean shook himself and shrugged. "I don't know," he answered honestly.

"You gonna sleep in that?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head before heading for the bathroom. He passed Mikey in the hallway.

"Dean?" Mikey whispered. Dean waited to see what Mikey wanted now. "I was watching the news earlier, when you were at the doctor. The weatherman said we might have thunderstorms tonight."

Dean stared at his youngest brother for a moment. "You were watching the news?" he asked in disbelief.

"I had to check on the weather!" Mikey protested in a hushed whisper. "So? Can I?"

Dean sighed and nodded. "Yeah, just wait until I get back, okay?"

"Thanks, Dean!" Mikey gave him a quick hug before rushing back into the bedroom.

Dean found his pajamas in the bathroom, waiting for him. Well, that was nice of whoever put them there. Dean changed quickly before scrubbing his teeth. He was too tired to wonder why someone was nice enough to lay his pajamas out for him. When he was ready for bed, Dean climbed straight in, hoping Sam wasn't planning on making him read tonight. Kid was too old for bedtime stories anyway.

Once he was settled, Dean glanced over at Mikey who was sitting on the edge of the smaller bed. Waiting. Dean motioned to him. Mikey leapt off the smaller bed and dived in next to Dean.

"Hey!" Sam protested. "You have your own bed!"

"It's okay, Sam," Dean told him. "There's supposed to be thunderstorms tonight."

Sam's brow furrowed. "There are?"

Mikey nodded energetically. "Yeah, Sam. Honest. I saw it on the news."

Sam sat up to glare at Mikey. "And where was I when you were watching the news?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"With Dean," Mikey snapped back. Dean had a feeling there had been a big argument between them again over whether or not Mikey would come wait at the therapist's office with Sam. The problem with it was they usually fought the whole time.

Sam frowned and rolled his eyes as he settled back down. "Whatever," he breathed out.

Dean felt Sam scoot close on his left side. Mikey wrapped an arm over Dean's chest and wriggled closer until Dean put his right arm behind Mikey's head. He rubbed a hand over Mikey's back as he tried to relax.

"Want me to read a story, Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean turned to frown at his younger brother. Now what was Sam talking about?

"Just to help you fall asleep," Sam offered.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Go to sleep," he grunted. As tired as he was, it wouldn't take any effort to fall asleep. Dean closed his eyes, hoping he would sleep too hard to dream.


	17. Chapter 17

All right! Posting the last two chapters together. Some of you have been asking if Dean will meet John and how will it go - next chapter. This is also where this prequel fic overlaps with the orginal PWD. (If you're interested in Mike's POV over the the end of this chapter and the next chapter, you'll have to go read the original.)

**Chapter 17**

When Dean opened the front door to walk Sam and Mikey to school, he found John standing out on the sidewalk in front of his house. He shot Sam a glare.

Sam shrugged. "I swear, Dean. I had nothing to do with it." He motioned at John. "I'm just as surprised as you are."

Well, to be honest, Sam didn't look too happy, so maybe he hadn't set it up. If it wasn't Sam, what the hell was John doing here? Dean shoved Sam towards John to find out.

"He's your friend," Sam protested in a whisper. Dean glared at him. "Yeah, okay. Be right back."

Sam sighed loudly as he walked over to John. They exchanged a few words before Sam returned.

"He said," Sam announced, "that he wanted to walk to school with us. He even had his mother drive over here to drop him off." Sam dropped his voice to a whisper. "I think he had his mom call Mom and Pop."

Dean sighed as he shook his head. "Don't bet on it," he mumbled. "Let's go."

Sam grabbed Dean's free hand to rest on his shoulder as they headed for school. Dean tried pulling it away. Once. The glare Sam gave him made him put it back immediately. They stood on the sidewalk outside of Sam's school and watched Sam go join a large group of friends near the side door.

Mikey moved to stand so close to Dean's side he could feel the warmth from Mikey's body. Dean put his hand on Mikey's shoulder and shoved. Mikey started towards the elementary. Dean and John walked Mikey all the way to his classroom.

"You really do this every day?" John asked as they left the elementary. Dean nodded without looking over at his friend. "Well, it's a nice walk."

It was still kind of early, so they didn't need to rush to the high school. Dean took his time, counting the cracks in the sidewalk. He hated school days right after therapy. He felt transparent, like everyone could literally see what he was thinking and feeling, that he could have no privacy.

John bumped his arm. Dean dragged his eyes up from the sidewalk. "Check it," John whispered. "Cheerleaders. Two o'clock."

Dean glanced over quickly. One of the girls giggled and waved at them. Dean froze and dropped his head, his face burning hot. John shoved him behind a large tree.

"Dean!" he hissed. "That's Stacy Reynolds! She waved at you!" John's face beamed.

Dean shook his head, horrified by the thought.

"She's totally into you," John continued. "Come on. Want to see if she'll give you her number?"

Her number? Her _phone_ number? All the air left his lungs. Dean gasped, desperate for oxygen.

"Whoa, whoa," John said, shaking him by the shoulders. "Come on, man. Breathe." He glanced away quickly. "Uh, do I need to go get Sam?"

Dean shook his head. He already looked like enough of a screw-up to his family, there was no reason to add one more thing to his list of blunders.

"Dean, man, if you don't start breathing, I'm taking you to the nurse." John looked pretty damned serious. "And she'll call your mother."

Dean drew in a lungful of air. After several more deep gulping breaths, he could breathe on his own again. He shook his head again.

"You good now?" John demanded. Dean nodded. "Good. Don't you dare scare the crap out of me like that again. Because if you think I'm giving you mouth-to-mouth..." John shook his head. "Let's just say, if you ever need mouth-to-mouth from me, it's been nice knowing ya."

Dean chuckled, shoving John in the shoulder. "Asshole," he panted.

John grinned at him. "And I'd expect you to let me die too."

Dean nodded at him. "Deal." He jerked a thumb towards where the cheerleaders had been. "Is the coast clear?"

John peered around the tree. He came back shaking his head. "But we can probably wait here until the first bell rings."

"Good." Dean slid down to sit on the ground and rest his back against the tree. "Got a science project partner?"

"You know I do," John snapped as he dropped down beside Dean. "So what are we going to do? I'm counting on you for that A."

* * *

Dean twirled his pen between his fingers as he stared at the open window of his bedroom. He was supposed to be working on his English essay, but it wasn't due until next week. The scattered newspapers leftover from Mikey's social studies project were still covering the windowseat. Damn kids. Mom would have a fit if she saw it. It was a wonder she hadn't noticed last night and reamed them all out for it.

Dean gathered up the newspapers, his eyes straying to car ads. Huh. Dean piled up the others on the floor as his eyes skimmed over the cars for sale.

Whoa. Awesome.

Dean circled an ad for a classic Mustang. It didn't look too pricey. He wondered why. When something looked too good to be true, like this, it usually meant it was pretty screwed up. Maybe it wasn't running or something. Well, that was okay. He could probably get it running, especially if Pop helped out. Dean carefully removed the page from the rest of the paper and folded it so the Mustang ad was on top. Yeah. It was do-able.

He was still staring at the ad, imaging himself covered with oil and grease while he worked on it, the gentle hum of a powerful engine running just right, when a voice startled him.

"Dean?"

He jumped, hiding the ad behind his back. Oh, thank God, it was only Sam.

"What is it?" Sam asked as he put the good basketball, the one which used to be Dean's, on the shelf. Sam swiped a hand across his sweaty forehead. "Come on, show me."

Dean chewed his lower lip for a moment before slowly holding out the ad. After all, if he couldn't trust Sam, who could he trust?

Sam gave him a funny look as he took the paper. Dean watched anxiously as Sam read over the ad. Then his little brother peered at him over the newsprint.

"You want your own car?" he asked slowly in a careful voice.

Dean swallowed hard, his mouth going bone dry with Sam's question. He started to shrug, to just pass it off as nothing, but Sam had this really intense look on his face. Dean nodded slowly, hoping the fallout wouldn't be too bad.

A grin spread quickly across Sam's face, reaching even his eyes. "That's awesome!"

"What's awesome?" Mikey demanded from the doorway.

Sam held up the newspapers ad. "Dean is going to buy his own car!"

"Yeah?" Mikey grinned too, his gaze shifting back to Dean. "We can go to the movies without Mom dropping us off?"

Dean nodded eagerly. It was just one of the things they would be able to do. "And I can drive you both to school, we wouldn't have to walk." He rubbed his hands together, warming to his fantasy. "We can see any movie we want, even the scary ones Sam likes. I won't have to sneak out to go watch Mikey's football games or Sam's basketball team. I'll even have some spending money."

He stopped suddenly realizing he had said all that out loud, with other people in the room. Anxious again, Dean glanced at his brothers. They were both grinning like crazy people.

"Sounds awesome, Dean," Sam told him.

"How are you going to have spending money?" Mikey asked excitedly, his eyes shining.

"Well, uh..." Dean shrugged as he motioned for his ad back. "I'll have to get a job."

Sam's hand froze in midair as he held out the ad. "You what?"

"I'll get a job," Dean repeated. Firmly. Yeah, like if he said it enough times he'd have the guts to go find one. He yanked his car ad out of Sam's hand.

Sam and Mikey exchanged an odd look.

"Uh, okay," Sam replied. "So how do we look for a job?"

Relief flooded him as he realized he wasn't going to have to go out and find a job alone. Dean looked at Mikey. "Think you can sneak downstairs and grab the want ads from today's paper?"

Mikey grinned and winked before rushing out of the room.

"That was to get rid of him, right?" Sam asked. "Seriously, how are we going to do this?"

Dean frowned at him. "I'm going to read the want ads and see if there are any jobs I can apply for. Got a better idea?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, Pop does own the garage. I'm sure he could give you a job."

Dean shook his head quickly at that idea. "Nope. He wouldn't."

"Why not?" Sam demanded. "He kind of owes it to you."

Dean stared in disbelief at his little brother. "What?!"

"You're his kid," Sam replied evenly. "That means he has to give you a job if you ask for it."

Dean shook his head again. "Maybe for you, not for me."

Sam's eyes narrowed on him and his brother got the look which always reminded Dean of one of those terrier dogs. "And why not for you?" His voice was soft, but the softness didn't fool Dean. Sam was on a mission. This was how Sam sounded before he called the parents of some kid at Dean's school who was being mean. Like he needed that kind of attention.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the floor until Mikey returned with the want ads, ignoring anything else Sam had to say.

* * *

The idea of his own car, and by extension his own job, had become so firmly entrenched in Dean's mind he couldn't imagine it not happening. Now finding a job, that was really turning into a chore. He and Sam had hit about ten places and filled out job applications. The problem was, all of them expected prior job experience. Now how the hell were you supposed to have job experience if no one was willing to give you a job?

Frustrated over how difficult it was to find a first job, Dean sat beside the driveway watching Sam and Mikey playing basketball. Sam had a couple of inches on Mikey and his arms were a lot longer, but Mikey was fast. At the moment they were pretty evenly matched. Dean kept taking out the car ad and looking at it, wondering how in the hell he could pay for it. And he really wanted his own spending money. He was going to need to pay for gas and insurance, too.

When he looked up to scan the street again, there was no telling when one of those damned Gundersons might decide to 'drop by', Dean noticed Pop's truck parked on the street. Ah, crap. How had he missed Pop coming home?

"Hey!" Dean shouted, pointing out the truck.

Sam waved him off, determined to beat Mikey at basketball since he never had a prayer playing against Mikey in football. Or track. However, Sam could kick some serious ass in Scrabble.

Dean sighed as he folded the newspaper ad back up to stick in his pocket. Sam made the next shot. Barely. The ball rolled all the way around the rim twice before finally falling in. Sam jumped up and down and shouted in victory. Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's antics, motioning for both of them to get their asses inside. Maybe Pop would let him move the truck! Yeah!

Instead of going through the front door, Sam led them to the side door by the garage which went right through the kitchen. It was a good thing Mom wasn't home to chew them out about dirty bodies in her clean kitchen.

Dean followed, but Sam and Mikey got into a shoving match at the door. Cripes.

"Break it up!" Dean ordered, hoping to catch Pop quickly so he could move the truck. He was planning to take it around the block before parking it. Now Sam and Mikey were intentionally blocking the door and grinning at each other. Stupid kids.

Dean growled under his breath as he grabbed each of his brothers by the shoulder. He shoved Mikey through first, then Sam. What the hell did they think they were doing? They were going to screw up his chance of driving the truck by himself, damn it! He gave both of them an extra shove into the middle of the kitchen.

When he glanced up from the kids, Dean saw Pop sitting at the table watching them. Oh, crap! Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no! Oh, he was in so, so, so, so much trouble. Holy crap! Dean stared at the floor as his hands dropped away from the boys and his mind raced for a way to get out of trouble. He was probably going to be grounded for life, no driving anything, no walking his brothers to or from school, no more going to their games...

"Dean?" Pop's voice broke through his internal freaking out. "You interested in an after school job?"

What? What was that? No, surely he heard Pop wrong. Pop couldn't have been asking what it sounded like he was asking. That had to be wishful thinking on Dean's part. He was in trouble for being too rough with his brothers. Right?

Sam nudged him in the arm. "Dean, weren't you just talking about getting a job so you could buy that car?"

"Car?" Pop asked, sounding interested. "You're looking at getting a car?"

Still not convinced this was for real and not one of his daydreams running wild, Dean nodded at the floor.

"What kind of car?" Pop asked. Okay, was this a trick? Was he dreaming?

Sam nudged him again. "At least show him the ad," Sam hissed.

"Yeah, Dean," Mikey piped up. "It's all you've talked about all freaking week!"

"Language," Dean warned softly before Pop could. He cringed internally at overstepping his bounds. Again. Why couldn't he learn where that freaking line was?

Mikey glared back at him, until he saw the look on Pop's face. "Sorry, Pop," Mikey said sheepishly.

"It's okay," Pop returned his attention to Dean. "So are you going to show me the ad or not?"

It didn't look like he was getting out of this. Sam nudged Dean forward, closer to Pop. Dean pulled out the well folded page from the newspaper. He handed it over, avoiding Pop's eyes. Oh, he really hoped Pop approved. If Pop didn't approve, then he was sunk. There was no way to convince Mom if Pop couldn't be convinced.

"Dean?" It was Pop's patient voice, the one which said he had another stupid idea. "You know we have some older model cars at the shop for sale. Why don't you pick one out and then you can make payments on it out of your paycheck?" Pop held the page out.

Dean looked at Pop, right in the face. He certainly appeared serious. "Really?" he asked, trying to contain his excitement. A job and a car? All at the same time? This couldn't be real!

"Sure. I need a dependable junior mechanic, we're terribly short handed at work, and you want a car. Why not? Sounds like a perfect match." Pop lifted his beer to take a swig.

"When…" Dean stopped, dropping his gaze, his breath catching in his chest. He couldn't believe this was happening. Maybe he fell asleep out in the yard and this was all a crazy dream. He would have believed it too, except Sam nudged him in the arm again. "When can I start?" his voice was barely audible, his mouth dry.

Pop grinned at him. "How does tomorrow sound?"

Dean nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He started to walk away, but he paused. "How do I get there?"

"Well, I guess I can swing by the school and pick you up," Pop offered.

Dean's eyes jumped back to Pop's face. "No. I always walk the kids home. You can pick me up here." Oh, God. Was that his voice? Had he really said that out loud? To Pop?? He was insane. No wonder they had him in therapy.

Pop made kind of a funny face before looking at him again. "Okay, fine. I'll pick you up here after school tomorrow."

Dean's eyes dropped away from Pop as he rushed out of the kitchen before he could screw this up. Retreating to the room he shared with his brothers, Dean put on some music. It helped him calm down sometimes, and right now his nerves were jumping something fierce.

A job and a car? Seriously? Maybe Santa Claus was finally fulfilling some of his wishes. His mind was in a whirl. If he woke up tomorrow to find out this was just a dream...

There was a knock on the door. It had to be Pop, Mom wasn't home yet and no one else knocked. He quickly shut off Sam's cassette player.

Dean cracked the door open slowly, afraid Pop had changed his mind. He couldn't look Pop in the eye. He just couldn't.

"Yes, sir?" he asked in a nonchallenging voice.

"Dean, you know with you working at the shop," Pop paused so it was probably bad news. "I don't think you'll have time to see your doctors as well as pick the boys up from school."

Oh, crap. There had to be a trade-off. Nothing could just go his way, could it? He wouldn't be able to work at the shop so he could walk Sam and Mikey home.

"So you're going to have to forego the therapy for a while. We'll have to see how it goes."

Dean's mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish floundering out of the water. He stared at Pop, not quite believing his ears. Maybe he had accidentally picked up a fairy godmother? Okay, that was totally insane and Pop was waiting for an answer or something from him.

"Okay, Pop," Dean managed to breathe out.

Pop kept staring at him. Dean couldn't figure out what else Pop might want. His eyes dropped down as he thought about what else he could say.

"Well, uh, you better get your sleep tonight. I'm going to work your ass off tomorrow."

Dean could feel the beaming smile on his face. "Yes, sir," he said with conviction. He had work tomorrow! There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight.


	18. Chapter 18

As much as I enjoyed writing the original version from Mike's POV, I have to admit, I really liked the way this chapter turned out. Hope you do too!

**Chapter 18**

Dean was grinning when he met Sam outside the middle school.

"Ready for work?" Sam asked with a smile. Dean nodded in reply, leading the way to pick up Mikey.

"I threw away the stupid list," Sam told him.

Dean glanced over in surprise. "My list?"

Sam beamed at him. "Yup. Tore it up into tiny pieces first."

He ran a hand affectionately over Sam's head, ruffling the long hair. "Knew I kept you around for a reason."

Sam chuckled at him. "Yeah, yeah," he said as he ducked away.

Dean noticed the crowd near the playground before they could hear the shouts.

"What do you think's going on?" Sam asked, pointing out the crowd.

Dean shrugged, but he quickened his steps. The shouts sounded more like kids watching a fight than some kind of game. Knowing Mikey, he'd be right on the front lines too. Worry overshadowing common sense, Dean rushed into the crowd of kids. He could see the fight over the sea of heads, and the kid on the ground looked an awful lot like Mikey.

Heart pounding painfully in his ears, Dean shoved his way through the crowd. A larger boy had Mikey pinned, sitting on his chest and whaling away with both fists. Dean didn't recognize the other boy, but it really didn't matter. Red flashing before his eyes, Dean grabbed the larger boy by the collar. Holding the boy by the collar with one hand and jeans with the other, Dean lifted him off of Mikey and threw him to the side. He stood between Mikey and the other kid, watching the boy roll to a stop in the dirt.

"It's okay, Dean," Mikey huffed. Dean refused to take his eyes off the other kid. Mikey started to walk by. "I got it now."

Dean grabbed Mikey by the shoulder to hold him back. Had the kid lost his freaking mind? Mikey tried to worm out of his grasp.

"Dean, I said I got it. Let go!" Mikey tried pulling away, so Dean tightened his hold.

With a glance at the other boy, who clearly had a little smarts since he was staying on the ground, Dean spun Mikey around. Both hands firmly on his baby brother's shoulders, Dean marched him through the crowd and towards home.

"What are you doing?" Mikey demanded, squirming and trying to escape from Dean's hold. "Let me go! I'll get him this time!"

Dean snorted in disbelief. That other kid had been seriously kicking Mikey's ass. He exchanged a look of understanding with Sam. Mikey might be fast, and strong, but he wasn't a fighter. At least Sam was on his side with this one. When they were close to home, Dean released his little brother. Mikey raced toward the house, shouting something about Dean embarrassing him.

"What was I supposed to do!" Dean shouted at Mikey's retreating back. "Let him beat you to a pulp?"

Mikey slammed open the kitchen door, leaving it open in his haste. Dean scowled at the door, hoping for once for Mom to be home to shout at them for infecting her clean kitchen.

"What the hell happened?" Dean heard Pop demand the second Sam walked through the door. Oh, great. Now he'd be in trouble for it from Pop too.

"Remember what I told you about bullies picking on Mikey?" Sam asked. When had Sam told Pop that? "Well this dude at Mikey's school just wouldn't quit. He had it coming."

"Had what coming?" Pop asked slowly, as if he were afraid of the answer. Dean closed the kitchen door.

Sam grinned. "Dean."

"Dean, what did you do?" Pop asked and he sounded kind of funny, almost like he was afraid of the answer.

Dean's eyes met his and, for a change, did not look immediately away. "Some asshole had Mikey pinned on the ground, beating the crap out of him. I stopped it and now he's pissed at me."

Anger coursed through his system at the unfairness of it all. He spent all of his free time looking after his little brothers, keeping them safe, and when Mikey should be thanking him the kid turned on him. Turned on his big brother. The little shit.

"Um, Sam? Think you can look after Mikey? We're late for work." Pop was still looking at him funny, but at the moment Dean was too ticked off to care.

"Sure, Pop. No problem." Sam pulled out a ziplock bag and started filling it with ice. Dean moved to go back out the door after dropping his schoolbag on the floor by the door.

"No. You need to change first." Pop tossed him the light blue coveralls waiting on the table.

Dean nodded before leaving the room. Upstairs Mikey ignored him, sitting on the windowseat and looking out the window with his back to Dean while Sam tried to coax him to use the ice. Dean decided to return the favor. If Mikey wanted to see who could freeze who out, the kid was in for a battle. Dean shed his school clothes in favor of the coveralls. When he glanced at his reflection in the mirror before heading downstairs, he was shocked to see his name on the left side.

He took the stairs two at a time, eager to start his first day at work. Maybe he'd even have some time to check out the cars for sale. Dean strode into the kitchen, pointing to his name. "How'd you get this so fast?" he asked quickly. Was there such a thing as a one day uniform service?

Pop shrugged. "Actually, I've been kinda hoping you'd ask to come work at the shop."

Dean felt the grin seep into his face at the words. Pop really wanted him to work at the shop! He held the door open for Pop, wondering what life at the shop was really like.

* * *

Right now Dean only had one set of coveralls, so they had to be washed nightly. When he came back to the room after checking on the wash, he found Sam and Mikey sitting on the side of the big bed. Mikey's eye was already starting to change color, darkening from red to a deep purple. Yeah, he had a nice shiner starting there. Dean wanted to ask what they were up to, but Mikey had been giving him the cold shoulder all evening.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said, waving him closer. "Mikey has something he wants to tell you."

Dean scowled but he stepped closer anyway.

"Sorry," Mikey mumbled, staring at the floor. Dean crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

"For?" Sam prompted, elbowing Mikey in the side.

Mikey sighed, eyes still downcast. "For saying you embarrassed me."

Sam looked up at Dean grinning. "Well?" he demanded. "Good enough?"

Dean shook his head, watching the grin drop away. "Fight?"

Mikey groaned, his head lifting. "I thought I could take him, Dean. Honest."

Dean glared at his baby brother. That other kid was huge!

"He pushes around some of the other kids, but he never actually hits any of them. I figured if I forced him into a real fight, he'd back down." Mikey's face twisted into a sour expression. "Didn't work out too well."

Dean chuckled and shook his head. He motioned for Mikey to stand up. His little brothers exchanged a confused expression before Mikey stood. Dean reached down and pulled Mikey's hands up, holding his arms in a decent defensive position. Taking a step back, Dean jabbed towards Mikey with his right fist.

"Keep that arm up," Dean instructed. Mikey nodded, paying attention now. At least this way, maybe Mikey would be able to stay off the ground until Dean could arrive to save his butt.

* * *

Working at the shop was freaking awesome. Pop had paired him up with this cool old dude, so he could learn from someone with experience. He had plenty of experience in being quiet and paying attention and it was really paying off now. The old dude, James, liked to talk. While he taught Dean how to rebuild a carburetor, he also talked about his kids and pretty much everyone who worked there. It was odd, but the lessons stuck in his mind just as well as the stories.

After a week, Dean decided to clean up their tool rack. He didn't bother asking, James never seemed to care when he took some initiative.

"Nice," James said as he worked. "I've been meaning to do something like that." He nodded as Dean kept organizing. "Did I ever tell you about my first job? It sucked."

Dean chuckled to himself as James launched into yet another story. This guy was a real character.

"Hey, Dean?" James whispered, jerking his head at Pop's office. "Is there anything going on with Jake?"

Dean frowned at James. The only thing he could think of regarding Jake was the fact the guy's family vacation was the topic of conversation at the dinner table last night. And that Pop had no idea how many kids Jake had. "No. Why?"

"Your dad had him in there for about half an hour this morning," James said with another worried look.

Dean shook his head. He thought Pop had forgotten about it. "It's nuthin'."

"You're sure?" James pressed. "Because if Jake's in trouble for something, I could go talk to your dad about it."

Talk Jake into having two kids instead of three so Pop could be right and he could be wrong? Yeah, right. Actually, Pop would love that. Dean had a bet with his little brothers that even if he was right, which he was, Pop wouldn't admit to it tonight at dinner. So Dean shook his head again before eying the carburetor waiting on James' bench.

"Oh, that's for you," James told him. "I wanted to see how much you remembered." He shrugged at Dean. "Whenever you're ready to get started. It's for that Impala on the lot, so it's low priority."

"Which one?" Dean asked as he headed for the workbench.

"You know, the black muscle car I caught you checking out two days ago." Dean's eyes jumped to James in surprise. "That is the car you're gonna pick, right?" James grinned. "Your dad told me you could have any car in our lot. It'd be a good one."

Dean shrugged and ducked his head. He hated being so obvious.

"Good choice," James told him. "Now let's get started."

Dean always enjoyed working with James. James talked the whole time, kind of like Sammy, and let Dean figure things out on his own. When he was really stuck, James always seemed to know and would slip in a hint or some directions while telling his stories. Time to leave always came too soon.

"Dean!" Pop's voice was so close it made Dean jump. He had been concentrating so hard he hadn't noticed Pop walking up behind him. A hand squeezed his shoulder. "Easy, son. It's time to go home."

"Okay, Pop," Dean replied as he reached for a shop rag to wipe his hands.

"Pop?" James asked. "Really? You call your dad Pop?"

Pop chuckled. "Since he was six, I think." Pop's hand squeezed his shoulder again. "Still don't know where he heard it."

Dean shrugged but he grinned at Pop as he tossed the shop rag to the side. "Ready."

Pop pulled out the keys. "Then you drive. I'm beat."

Yes! Dean's grin broadened as he snagged the keys.

"James, did Dean tell you which car he picked out?" Pop asked.

James smiled at him. "Nope, but I'm pretty sure I guessed it. The sixty-seven Impala, right?"

"That's it," Pop announced proudly. "It got me to thinking. What if we contacted some of the vintage car clubs and let them know we can work on older model cars? I'll bet we can land some restoration jobs."

James nodded thoughtfully. "That could work."

Pop turned him around. "I'm going to make some calls tomorrow. Night, James! Lock up?"

"Sure thing, boss!" James called after them.

Dean wondered briefly if he was being allowed to drive home because he was right about Jake and Pop wasn't going to say so at dinner. Well, honestly, he didn't care as long as he got to drive!

At home, Dean took his time showering before dinner. It wasn't like anything Earth-shattering was going to happen anyway. Sam and Mikey were literally bouncing off the walls. They couldn't wait to see what happened tonight at dinner.

At first Dean thought Mom and Pop both forgot. Pop was egging on Sam and Mikey to talk about their days, pretty much ignoring Dean. Which was fine with Dean. If he was going to be told he was wrong every time he opened his mouth, he'd just as soon they not ask him anything.

Sam had just launched into a story about how unfair his history teacher was when Mom interrupted.

"Dean?" Mom asked. "Don't you have something to say?"

Dean shook his head as a tense silence descended on the table. He shoveled in a forkful of food, hoping it would stave off more questions.

"I think you do," Mom said in that sing-song voice which meant he had something to own up to.

"If the boy doesn't have anything to say, that's fine, Kate," Pop said, much to Dean's surprise. Oh, so Pop wasn't planning on saying anything. Yeah, he figured that.

"No, it's not," Mom argued. "He told you yesterday that you were wrong, now it's time for Dean to apologize. Dean?" Mom set down her fork to stare at him.

Despite Mom's steady stare burning into him, Dean ignored everyone and continued to eat as if no one had spoken. He wondered what Sam and Mikey thought of all this.

"Dean?" Mom asked again. Dean wondered how long he would be able to hold out before he had to apologize for being right.

Pop cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Um, actually, Dean was right," he announced. "Jake does have three kids. He probably got their names right too, I don't remember."

Dean looked at Pop out of the corner of his eye, to see if he really heard that or if maybe it was wishful thinking. Pop's face was kind of ruddy, like he was embarrassed. When Pop looked at him, Dean's eyes snapped back to his plate.

"Oh. Well," Mom sounded kind of flustered, but Mom was never flustered. "In that case, Mike, you owe Dean an apology."

Dean set his fork down. Pop owed him an apology? _Him_?

Pop cleared his throat. Dean waited silently to see what was going to happen. "Um, sorry, Dean."

"For doubting you," Mom prompted.

"Sorry for doubting you," Pop parroted. Holy crap! He lost the freaking bet!

Dean nodded, then resumed eating. He glanced up to glare at Mikey and Sam, who were openly staring over the apology, which was virtually unheard of from adults in this house. At the look from Dean, Mikey and Sam dove into their plates, racing to see who finished dinner first. Dean took his time, finishing his meal later than the boys.

When all three were finished, Mikey and Sam chorused, "May we be excused?"

"Don't you want dessert?" Mom asked, surprise written all over her face.

"No, thank you!" Mikey and Sam jumped up from the table and raced upstairs. Dean sighed and stood, intending to follow.

"Dean," Pop caught his arm as he tried to leave, "what's going on?"

One side of Dean's mouth turned up in a smirk. "I lost a bet," he admitted. Pop gave him an odd look as he released Dean's arm. Dean headed slowly out of the kitchen and up the stairs. As if going to school and working weren't enough, now he was going to be so damned sore he probably wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.

The instant Dean stepped into their room, Sam and Mikey both launched themselves at him. Dean staggered under their combined weight. First he picked up Sam, who hung from his shoulder, and flung him on the bed where he bounced about a foot in the air. Next he grabbed Mikey around the waist. Sam barely rolled away in time for Mikey to land safely in the center of the bed. Dean set his feet apart and braced himself as Sam raced around the room, heading for him. When Sam jumped, Dean caught his little brother to send him sailing through the air on the now empty bed. He kept catching and flipping the younger boys until they heard a heavy knock on the door.

The younger boys were really wound up now. Their heads snapped up at the sound and they raced out the bedroom door to see who could reach the front door first. Not wanting to be left out, Dean ran after them.

"I got it!" Pop yelled from downstairs.

Dean paused on the landing with his brothers to see who was at the door. Pop opened it and his jaw dropped.

Concerned, Dean waved for his brothers to stay as he headed slowly down the stairs.

"Hey, Mike. Can I come in?" A deep voice, one which sounded safe and warm, came from the front door. Intrigued, Dean took the last steps two at a time.

"Get out!" Pop shouted and slammed the door.

Dean had never seen Pop react so violently to anyone before. Worried now, Dean rushed to where Pop leaned against the door. His eyes were wide and he was breathing hard.

"Pop?" Dean placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. He squeezed until Pop looked at him. "What is it?"

Pop swallowed hard. "Nothing, son," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Go back upstairs."

The knock at the door turned into a pounding. Maybe his brothers weren't the only ones who needed a little protection from time to time. Dean gently pulled Pop away to open the door. A large man stood just outside, his hand raised to pound again. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yeah, you can. I'm looking for Dean and Sam Winchester. Can you help me?" The man's voice rang out in the evening air.

That voice. He knew that warm, safe voice. And the man looked so damned familiar. The man said Dean and Sam Winchester. No one used that name. No one.

"Dad?" Dean asked, amazed. No, it couldn't be. Could it?

"Dean?" The man sounded relieved.

So, Dad remembered him, and freaking left him here anyway! All the years of feeling abandoned by this man, the man standing right freaking in front of him, surged up and out through his fist. When it connected with Dad's jaw, pain shot through his knuckles and up his arm. And it felt so damned good!

He watched with satisfaction as Dad landed on his back with hard thump. Dad was sprawled on the ground, holding his jaw. "Guess I deserved that, huh?" he laughed from where he lay. "At least you didn't grow up soft. That'll help."

"You son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, fury overcoming his better sense. The man actually had the nerve to judge how he grew up? "You come back after thirteen years? Go to hell!"

"Ironically, Hell is the reason I'm here. I've found a way to track the thing that killed your mother, Dean. I want you to help me kill it." Dad stood up to face him. Dean was close to Dad's height now but Dad might have twenty or so pounds on him, not that it would do the man any good. Right now Dean felt like he could take on an army single-handed. He kind of hoped John Winchester would pull something to give him an excuse to hit his biological father again.

"I said: Go. To. Hell." Dean glared at his father.

"Dean," Pop's voice was calm and steady. He felt a familiar hand on his arm. It was the hand that taught him how to ride a bike and drive a car. It was the hand which showed him how to change the oil in Mom's car. It was also the hand which taught him how to throw a football. As he shook with rage, Pop's hand gently squeezed and Dean knew he could do what he needed to do, what he had to do.

"You left us," Dean's voice was barely above a whisper. "You abandoned your family. You don't have the right to come back here now. Pop said Get Out. So get out!" Dean slammed the door in his face. He closed his eyes, leaning heavily against the door and breathing hard. He waited for the sounds of his dad abandoning him again. After a few moments the noise of an engine starting broke the silence, then tires squealing as a vehicle pulled away from the house.

"He's gone," he breathed, sliding down to the floor. Part of him had hoped for Dad to stay, to apologize, maybe try to make things right. But Dad left, the way he had thirteen years ago. Without a freaking word.

He stared up at Pop while his racing heart settled. "Dads leave," Dean told him. He knew Pop never understood why he refused to call him Dad. This was the first time he felt he could put it into words. "I'll never be a dad. Maybe a Pop, but never a dad."

Pop smiled at him and squeezed both his arms warmly. For perhaps the first time, Dean felt like he really belonged here, and not just because he was Sam's brother. He felt like he had a place here which was just for him. God, how had he been so blind?

"Dean?" Sam and Mikey were still standing on the stairs. Mikey's mouth was hanging open. Sam looked close to tears. Oh, crap. How much of that had they heard?

Dean struggled to stand but Pop pulled him up to his unsteady feet. The boys raced down to him. Each attached himself to one of Deans' legs after he was standing. Man, he liked the feel of both Sam and Mikey hanging on to him like this. Especially right now.

"Pop?" Sam cried, tears starting down his cheeks. "You won't let that man take Dean away, will you?"

"Dean's not going anywhere," Pop said softly.

"Why did you call him Dad?" Mikey asked, his head pressed against Dean's stomach.

"Because I'm adopted," Dean said, ruffling both boys' hair. "He used to be my father." He exchanged a look with Pop. Dean was grateful when Pop did not mention Sam was adopted too.

"I have to talk to Mom." Sam ran to the kitchen. "Mom!"

Ah, crap. Dean hoped Sam hadn't heard Dad asking for him too. That son-of-a-bitch! If Sam started having nightmares about this, he was going to hunt Dad down and finish kicking his ass. Dean tugged Mikey along to follow Pop who was chasing after Sam.

In the kitchen Sam was hanging on to Mom, tugging her arms excitedly. "Can that man take Dean away?" Sam demanded.

"What man?" she asked as she turned to look at Pop. Pop sighed, shaking his head. "John? He was here?" she whispered as a strange expression crossed her face.

"Dean's not going anywhere," Pop said again in his 'mow the yard now' voice.

Dean shook off Mikey to kneel next to Sam, to look up into his younger brother's face. He grasped Sam's shaking arms in his hands. "Sammy, it's okay. He's gone." Wow, Sam was as scared of him leaving as he was of being kicked out. A rush of affection for his younger brother flooded through him. "And if he comes back, I'll hit him again," he assured Sam. He wouldn't leave Sam. Not ever.

He heard a gasp from Mom. Dean tried to ignore it. He knew how much she disliked it when he was in a fight, and he had started this one. The thought that he should be grounded occurred to him, especially since Pop saw him start the fight.

Sam flung his arms around Dean's neck. "Don't let him take you without me," Sam cried. "I have to look after you!"

Dean stood, lifting his sobbing brother with him. He shot Pop a quizzical look, but Pop only shrugged. Great. Nobody knew what was wrong with Sam. Dean made eye contact with Mikey. There were tears in those eyes, too. They needed a distraction, something normal and routine. It was too late to play outside.

"Did someone mention dessert?" Dean asked softly, hoping Mom or Pop would catch on.

Mom nodded quickly. "Absolutely. Dessert." She bustled around the kitchen gathering dessert plates and setting them on the table. "Cherry pie and ice cream."

Relieved, Dean carried Sam over to the table. After settling Sam in a chair, he waved for Mikey to sit on his other side. Both boys scooted their chairs as close to Dean as possible. Dean made sure he had a smile on his face as he nudged each of his brothers. They both seemed calmer sitting at the table while Mom and Pop served pie and ice cream.

"So, Dean," Pop asked as he pushed over a plate, "have you given any thought to college?"

College? Seriously? "Not really," Dean said with a shrug, wondering what Pop meant.

"Well, maybe you should," Pop stated as he passed around more dessert. "A business degree could be helpful, especially if you're interested in running the garage one day."

Dean's head snapped up to look Pop right in the eye. He sure didn't look like he was teasing. Yeah, okay, maybe he had a pretty good spot in this family, _his_ family. A slow grin seeped into his face as he gave a slight nod. "Maybe someplace local?" he asked tentatively, wondering if they would expect him to move out to go to school.

"Of course," Mom replied brusquely. "The house wouldn't be the same without you."

That warm feeling Sam had given him a few moments ago was back, and it was overwhelming as it flooded through him. Dean sat staring at his pie until Sam nudged his arm and nodded at his plate. Then Dean ate slowly, not tasting the food, while his mind whirled with possibilities. College. Running the shop. God, he had a future! It was too much to take in all at once. Maybe the ideas would settle in more over the next few days, which was fine. He had time. Plenty of time.


End file.
